


Scars of Time

by Rhiannyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe, Battle of Hogwarts, F/M, Falling In Love, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 123,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28230222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannyn/pseuds/Rhiannyn
Summary: “...last resort, you must do this!” There was the sound of parchment tearing, soft footsteps, and a heavy sigh.She wailed and let herself sink onto the floor. What did it matter now? She would die here. Let the Death Eaters find her. Let them try and take her. There was no hiding from them. He had won. She would do her best to take down as many as possible. She choked back bile and half-heartedly pushed away the arms that were pulling something over her head, something cold and heavy. Jewelry, perhaps.“Do you understand?”Her head shook back and forth, vision swimming. Attempting to swallow, she only tasted blood and sadness and defeat. Her body throbbed from curses that had struck her, from falling, from fists colliding with her face. She had taken out a few, but not enough. The realization that she had killed washed over her. Blood and bones both turned to ice.“You must change this. Find Tom Riddle! Kill him, change him, whatever you choose! This is our last resort. I... have no other option. I trust you.”
Relationships: Tom Riddle/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 66
Kudos: 139





	1. Prologue

**2 May, 1998**

Screaming, crying, pleading.

The casualties were plentiful. There were limbs strewn aside and bodies lying still with screams etched into their faces. People were cowering and mourning; changing allegiances at the sight of the piles of the dead.

Desperation, death, destruction.

Some of the fighters were beyond desperate, bargaining with every chip they had; money, shelter, their bodies; family trinkets... it didn’t matter what it was, it was offered. They would do anything, absolutely anything to make the chaos stop. Though many gave up in the end, there were still those who fought further; those who were naive enough to think they could make a difference in an inevitably crumbling world.

Sorrow, shame, surrender.

Wands were tossed aside or offered to the enemy as a sign of peace, but many were killed regardless. It was shameful. What else was there to do other than raise the white flag? To give into the madness and become a part of his world?

Everything was falling to pieces.

In the midst of the bloodshed, as people fled and died or bowed before him, a hand grabbed the bicep of a young girl who tried in vain to rise despite injuries and charge back into the battle; no longer caring whether she lived or died. Everyone else she loved had been killed, so what did it matter? The girl gnashed her teeth, clawing wildly at the individual who had a firm grasp on her. She screamed, cursed, and spit. A wayward spell escaped her wand, hitting the lifeless body of someone already deceased. She swore loudly and tried to re-aim.

The person was saying her name, repeating it over and over again, but the words didn’t stick. She heard them, knew them, but they weren’t important. Despair clung to her every muscle, every ligament, and every organ. Her heart drummed an irregular beat of mourning and rage. Another spell left her wand. Red light struck a tall man in the face. She sneered as he collapsed, clutching his nose. The woman kept pulling and pulling her away, leading her through a large door. The duo stumbled over a body, neither stopping to look at it. The girl had stopped fighting now, but didn’t turn to face her captor. Did it matter? They had lost. She had lost. There was nothing. She wanted to kill as many as she could before her own, inevitable demise.

A piercing scream hung in the air. Another life lost. The young girl knew it was one from their side, there was not a doubt in her mind. That was the way of the world now. Her people had been overrun. The good had been snuffed out. Only darkness prevailed.

A door slammed and the vaguely familiar voice repeated her name over and over and over again, but she wasn’t hearing it. Words drifted in and out as the girl choked back a sob and threw herself at the exit, frantic to get away from this place. Maybe, there would be a chance of survival... and if not? She would rather die than stay in the place where so many of her friends and family had fallen.

“...last resort, you must do this!” There was the sound of parchment tearing, soft footsteps, and a heavy sigh.

She wailed and let herself sink onto the floor. What did it matter now? She would die here. Let the Death Eaters find her. Let them try and take her. There was no hiding from them. He had won. She would do her best to take down as many as possible. She choked back bile and half-heartedly pushed away the arms that were pulling something over her head, something cold and heavy. Jewelry, perhaps.

“Do you understand?”

Her head shook back and forth, vision swimming. Attempting to swallow, she only tasted blood and sadness and defeat. Her body throbbed from curses that had struck her, from falling, from fists colliding with her face. She had taken out a few, but not enough. The realization that she had killed washed over her. Blood and bones both turned to ice.

“You must change this. Find Tom Riddle! Kill him, change him, whatever you choose! This is our last resort. I... have no other option. I trust you.”

“No,” she said weakly, not understanding, not even wanting to comprehend. She couldn’t focus. Her head pounded, her heart felt so heavy in her chest. “No...”

“Illegal... highly so... Yes. No one knew I had this...” the voice, clearly feminine, pulled at the chain around the girl’s neck and shoved a fistful of parchment into her hands. “Go... go. Please, prevent this nightmare.”

The girl cried out, “I--!” Her words cut off as she disappeared from her place on the floor.

The woman pulled herself up, brushed away the tears, and prayed in a way she had not done since a very young age, “Please, Blessed Lord.... Forgive me... Forgive us.” A sob attempted to escape her, but she held it back. The woman then touched her fingertips to her forehead, to her sternum, then to the left side of her chest, and finally the right. Her father had taught her that many years and years ago. Gripping her wand tight, Minerva McGonagall wrenched open the door and marched back into the fray, “You are our last ray of hope, Ginny Weasley. God, save us all. Lord, help her. Help all of us. Forgive me...”


	2. Chapter One

**11 August, 1943**

Cracked lips parted to release a sharp cry and a gasp. She tried to pull herself upward, but her muscles protested and her stomach rolled. She whimpered, trying to move her arms though they felt like lead. Everything was sluggish and slow, it seemed as if she were in a dream. Was this death? 

“Oh--” she tried to speak, voice raspy and sore. Her lips cracked and she tried to lick away the blood. It was a struggle to open her eyes, but when they finally opened, she was greeted by a light far too bright to withstand. Moaning, the girl closed them again and wondered if she had found heaven. She certainly felt as if she were dead. That would explain the anguish clutching her heart, the pain that lingered in her arms and legs. Voices echoed within her own mind, but she was unable to make sense of it. There was no recollection of what had happened to her.

“Miss?” a soft, deep woman’s voice sounded from somewhere close to her right. “Oh, Merlin’s Beard, Albus, I think she’s stirring.”

“Is she?” a male voice came closer, advancing from the left and hmming loudly as he approached. “Are you truly awake?”

“I--” she gasped, coughing and moaning again. Her body protested her desire to sit up, bones aching and muscles failing her. “I--...”

“No, dear child, please don’t strain yourself. Hold on, just hold on,” the woman’s voice said anxiously. Glass tinkled and the girl felt something cool and wet touch her lips. She drank it down as quickly as she could, sputtering on the dregs. A cold, calming feeling raced down her body. The aching weakened to a dull, sort of numb feeling. Breathing out in relief, she risked a glimpse at the world again. Her brown eyes flickered around the room, taking in the surroundings.

“Where?” she croaked, staring around at everything that seemed familiar... but couldn’t be placed. No name, nor location came to mind. Something about this place tugged at her heartstrings, making her feel both scared and hopeful. Why did she feel that way? She gagged, but clapped her hands over her mouth. Her breathing quickened and she felt her whole body quiver in fear. Why couldn’t she remember? 

“Miss,” the man said delicately, putting a soft hand on her shoulder. He was ginger haired with thick streaks of gray, bearded, and seemingly friendly. “Take your time. Take it easy... Breathe. Yes, in and out. Just like that. Deep breaths, there we go.”

When the girl’s heartbeat finally began to normalize somewhat and the impending panic attack had been quelled, the woman spoke again, “Ginevra, right?”

The girl blinked at her, meeting the dark eyes of the tall, brown-skinned woman standing to her right. Ginevra? The name triggered something in her brain, as if she could almost place what that name was and who it belonged to, but the slight glimmer of remembrance faded as quickly as it came. Her heart plummeted. She stared up at the woman, horror-stricken.

“Do you know where you are?” the red-haired man asked kindly. “Do you know this place?”

Shaking her head, the girl felt tears trickle down her cheeks. It felt like she should know, but her mind was blank and void of anything that had happened to her. Nothing came to mind. There was something important tickling the back of her brain again, but she was too tired to reach for it and solve the mystery. She breathed out slowly and stared hard at the ginger man's face. Her heart stopped a moment, but she truthfully had no idea why. The man was... familiar. She recognized him, but from what? From where?

“Ginevra,” the man said in his light, kindly tone. “My name is Albus Dumbledore. This is Madame Golightly, she’s a Healer.”

His name set off a bell; loud alarms went off within her head, but she couldn’t figure out why. It seemed imperative to try and remember this man. Ginevra panicked.  _ Ginevra _ . Was that her truly own name? It sounded... almost right, but she wasn’t positive. She stared between the man and the woman and choked out, “I can’t remember. I can’t remember anything!”

Albus Dumbledore shared a long, pensive look with the woman across from him and nodded solemnly, “It’s alright. You have been through some trauma and memory loss is not an uncommon side effect. Mayhaps, I can ask you a few questions? It might help you recall something.”

Ginevra nodded, still processing the realization that her memory was gone. How could she still speak or think? Everything in her head was blank, but words came to her so naturally. It didn't seem right. She couldn’t recall where she was the day before, or even the month before. Words and images danced around within her skull and disappeared as quickly as they came. Fear bubbled in her belly. There something important she needed to remember. There was something that scared her, something that made her body sting with loss and misery and it was there on the tip of her tongue.... But, she just couldn’t get it out.

“One of our professors found you lying in his classroom, several months ago. To say he was shocked was an understatement. You were... in poor shape. Injuries, hysterical... Do you remember your arrival here? Perhaps, even some key words or imagery?”

“No...” she trailed off, trying to think. All that came to mind was screaming and a faceless woman telling her.... something as she knelt beside her in a dark room. There was a lot of noise, but nothing distinct, nothing stuck out. No faces, no names, no words. Just simply noise and a vague glimpse of a dark room. She repeated that information aloud to Albus Dumbledore and Madame Golightly.

The man nodded, looking somewhat dismayed, “You must have come from a very dangerous place. You were caked in blood and soot. We were dreadfully concerned. Do you know your name?”

Shaking her head, she sighed, “I assume it’s Ginevra, since you said it? It sounds... close, I think.” Ginevra frowned and closed her eyes for a moment. She was trying to remember the sound of someone calling out to her. It was there, just there at the forefront of her brain taunting her. “You say I appeared in a classroom?” She coughed again.

Albus Dumbledore nodded, “Yes, in the Muggle Studies classroom. It was just after classes ended for the day and Professor Portright had been about to leave for supper when you suddenly appeared on the floor by the exit. Nearly gave the poor old man a heart attack, you did. He immediately contacted the Headmaster and our Healer. You were conscious for only a short time. I’m afraid I was not made aware of your arrival until you reached the Hospital Wing and they called for me, but as I have been told, you were shouting a few things. Might I have Madame Golightly tell you what they were? To trigger anything else?”

“Only if you feel up to it,” Madame Golightly shot Dumbledore a curt look.

Ginevra nodded slowly, feeling weary and exhausted. Trying to recall anything was taking so much out of her. She turned her head slightly toward the tall, dark woman.

“Well,” the woman’s deep voice started, she sounded a bit nervous. She put her hands in the pockets of her apron. “You were calling out the name Harry. You shouted that everyone was... _gone_. Someone, a man I presume, had won the battle you were fighting in.” She paused and then continued, “There was also mention of your family. A mother that had died recently... I’m so sorry, Ginevra. You were so distraught, kept crying out for people and for someone to let you die fighting.”

Harry. That made Ginevra’s eyes water and her heart pound. Who was he? She  _ needed _ to remember him. She licked her cracked lips, “I... feel sad when I think about Harry. He... I think he was important to me.” She moved onto the next thing, trying to recall further. “My mum...” A vague image of a plump woman with a red mane glimmered for the briefest of moments. She nodded, “I think she was killed. I don’t know why or what or how. But, I... remember hopelessness... and sorrow. My heart hurts when I think about family.”

Both of the adults nodded solemnly and shared another look, this time both mournful. Madame Golightly sniffed and put a warm hand on Ginevra’s shoulder before walking away from the bed, muttering something about getting another round of potions ready. Dumbledore pulled out his wand and magically moved a chair from the across the room to beside Ginevra’s bed. He sat down and smiled apologetically, “My knees have gotten weaker as I age, do forgive me.” Then, the older man pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Ginevra. “This was found clutched tight in your hands. It might... explain a few things.”

Ginevra took the torn scrap of parchment and looked down. The writing was messy, hurried, and sloppy. She swallowed as her eyes took in the words written there.

_ TO ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, _

_ The date is 2 May, 1998. _

_ The world ended today. _

_ I had no choice but to send her, there is no hope. _

_ We need a second chance. Please forgive me. _

_ Minerva M. McGonagall _

Blinking, she handed the parchment back to Dumbledore who pocketed it, “Sir... what’s this mean?” 

“Another thing you were found with... was this,” he held up a necklace, gold chain with a badly banged up hourglass hanging off of it. “A time turner. The last item was another scrap of parchment charmed to become an identification card once it touched your blood.”

“That’s how you knew my name,” Ginevra spoke slowly, meeting the pale blue eyes of the man sitting beside her.

Dumbledore nodded and clutched the last scrap of parchment in his hands, “Yes... This Minerva must be a very clever girl. She’s but a child right now, I did some research on her after you arrived. She must have known that I would want proof in a situation as rare as this one. This bit of magic is quite helpful for solving cases involving polyjuice potion or heavy body transfiguration. I checked the magic myself and I see that no error has been made. The information is valid. You are Ginevra Molly Weasley, age seventeen, born on this very day thirty-eight years in the future! You were born in Ottery St. Catchpole. I know the names of your parents, your brothers, and that you attended Hogwarts in Gryffindor House for some time. Does any of this sound familiar?”

Blinking, Ginevra Weasley processed what she was being told. Thinking was straining and it was quite frustrating feeling like there was so much just out of reach within her own head. She felt absolutely foolish, not able to remember such simple things like her own name or the names of her mum or dad. A chill shot down her spine. What did the note mean by ‘the world had ended’? And on top of that, she -- Ginevra Weasley -- was their only hope? The panic welled up in her rib cage. How could she be of any hope when Ginevra couldn’t recall what she was supposed to do. Shrugging a shoulder, she gazed down at the red cloth blanket and didn’t reply to the question.

“I’m sorry your memory is not serving you well. It must be very disheartening. I think over time you will begin to remember things. I will contact a former colleague of mine who is employed at St. Mungos and ask what she recommends in this situation. We thought to bring you there... but, with the circumstances...” Dumbledore trailed off, holding up the note that confirmed her arrival through time travel. “We thought we should not alert the Ministry on this matter just yet. They would identify you and realize you are not even born yet. Too many questions, too much hassle. Minerva McGonagall might end up in trouble for her future self actions, it is highly illegal what she did. No, we kept you here and your arrival a secret.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ginevra whispered, glancing at him momentarily. Dumbledore seemed like a smart fellow, thinking of everything. “Is school in session?”

“No, it is summer holiday,” Dumbledore replied cheerfully. “Most of the Professors have returned home as well, only a few stay behind such as myself. I believe I’ll be watching over you this evening so Madame Golightly can have a peaceful night with her family back in Glasgow. Ever diligent, she is, but with two young ones at home... Well, I think she ought to spend the time with them. Especially since you’re awake now.”

“Oh,” Ginevra said, squirming a bit. It made her uncomfortable to know a bunch of strangers had taken time out of their lives to nurse her back to consciousness. It didn’t seem fair, or right. She made note to thank and apologize to Madame Golightly when she returned with potions.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, getting Ginevra’s attention once more, “There is something I would like to discuss with you... and that would be your work here.”

“I can't remember what I need to do. Find... something. Or someone,” Ginevra blurted out, feeling a little worried. The reality of being sent over fifty years back into time was sinking in. Even if she had her memory untouched, not many that knew her would be alive. And those she did happen to know would be much, much younger without recollection of her. On top of that, what if she never remembered what she came here for? What if she was stuck here for the rest of her life? She had so many questions, each one more worrying than the next.

“You will remember more as time goes on, of this I am certain,” Albus Dumbledore replied politely, appearing to have noticed her dismay over the situation. “I have made some arrangements for you. Ones that will deter questions regarding your whereabouts for the years prior. Ones that will explain a sudden appearance such as yours. Recently, the Pyrites family was murdered. Once a great, respected family and all were killed by one of Grindelwald’s followers. Grindelwald... well, he is a terrorist, very invested in the dark arts -- and, ah, you will hear plenty about him in the days to come. There were once three Pyrites boys. One, the eldest, passed away to illness at seventeen, the youngest went on to wed a woman from another Pureblood family, and the middle one disappeared after finishing school and was not heard from again, until quite recently I personally believe. The youngest was interested in Muggles and open to tolerance and acceptance of the Muggleborns in society, though his brothers and parents were not. As the oldest died and the middle child disappeared, the family home went to the youngest. He moved in with his wife and they soon had children of their own. That boy was Kerwyn Pyrites. He was extraordinarily paranoid; very worried his brother would reappear and take away the home and lands Kerwyn had inherited. He put wards on the house, enlisted a Secret Keeper, his own wife, to hide their existence under the Fidelius Charm. He taught his daughters at home and made sure no one left the premises without his permission. Now, you may be wondering why Kerwyn Pyrites was so worried about his brother returning, why he did not think the boy was dead. I, too, wonder, Ginevra, but I have some theories. Someone must have informed him of his brother's whereabouts, someone told Kerwyn his brother was in cahoots with dark wizards such as Grindelwald. Pyrites kept his family hidden for a long time, almost thirty years! But last month, on the 4th of July, that long-lost brother returned and killed Kerwyn, his wife, and all six of his daughters. How? Well, this is easy. His wife was the only secret keeper and must have betrayed him willingly or under the Imperius Curse. My theory is willingly, though I cannot confirm that. Why is this information pertinent? Because, Ginevra, this is the perfect backstory for you. I was wondering what we would do with you and this opportunity fell into my lap! A secretive family no one ever saw murdered, leaving none behind. No one, but  _ you _ . I took a few liberties and let it leak that a child was found alive at the ruins. I thought we might use that as a cover story of sorts. Obviously, you cannot use the surname Weasley here. There is already a Weasley in school who would know you not to be a relative.”

Ginevra slowly processed all of this data. It was a lot of information to take in, but Albus Dumbledore impressed her. He had thought of everything. No one would bat an eye at her sudden appearance with a story like that. She nodded in agreement. 

“Excellent. I had hoped you would find this agreeable. It would be painfully awkward if you had not. I already have visited the Ministry and, ah, changed a small detail on the Pyrites family registry. Their youngest was a girl named Guinevere, may she rest in peace. I have, very illegally, changed the name to read Ginevra. I thought I might have the world know you as little Guin, but I opted to leave you some familiarity, though I know that means little right now with your amnesia,” Dumbledore finished with a kind smile. “I may... have duplicated some documents on the family for you to study. It wouldn’t do well without you knowing the names of your mother and father and sisters would it?”

“No, sir, I imagine not,” Ginevra said thoughtfully. Her heart went out to Guinevere Pyrites, now deceased with her identity stolen. A panicked thought surfaced, “But, won't that man... my ‘Uncle’... won't he look for me?”

“Ah, no, I think not. You see, the lands, though the house itself is destroyed, now belong to your Uncle Alwyn. The will of the Pyrites inheritance is very old and absolute - only male heirs can inherit the land unless none live. He will rebuild in time, I am certain and he will not be threatened by a teenage girl who, in his eyes, is just someone to be married off to another Pureblood. As far I have determined, the man never met any of his nieces. As you have turned seventeen today, you are now legally on your own. Thankfully, you will be left a great sum of money. Kerwyn and his wife were wealthy and that money cannot go to Alwyn. I find it hard to believe he would come looking for money, when he is running with dark wizards and no doubt, still has a vault with his name on it as he was never proved to be deceased. Your father’s account is already in your name at Gringotts. I thought we might have you make a statement at some point saying you were interested in a new life, something quiet, that is why you were looking to attend Hogwarts.”

“I would feel dreadfully awful using this dead girl's money,” Ginevra trailed off and she truly would. It didn’t seem fair to be using the finances of a deceased family. Sure, it would be better off in her hands than the ones of the maniac uncle, but... it seemed dirty.

“Think of it this way, Ginevra. If it didn't go to you, it would go to Alwyn Pyrites who is a murderer. There are many who suspect him. He will be suspicious of what you remember of that night, I think, but if we play this right, he ought not to bother you if you turn a blind eye and never return to the Pyrites family home. I imagine he wanted blood traitors off of his pure lands and will now use them for Grindelwald’s plans... whatever those may be,” Dumbledore trailed off, a frown crossing his face for a moment. The way he said Grindelwald had a strange inflection to it. Ginevra could only imagine what that was all about. If one of his men murdered his own family in cold blood, this Grindelwald fellow was likely to be even worse.

“I see,” she replied tiredly. She closed her eyes a minute and tried not to feel overwhelmed by guilt and worry over the whole situation. Dumbledore really had been quite thoughtful, though Ginevra couldn’t help but wonder if this was too good to be true. Would this ‘Uncle’ really leave her be? Would people buy this story? She certainly hoped so, being outed as a time traveler did not sound appealing. 

Dumbledore stood up, “I am sure you are tired. I have given you quite the information overload today, You were in your sixth year when you came back to this time, nearly finished, I believe? I might have you repeat it, I know that doesn't sound ideal, but with the circumstances -- your memory, the Pyrites homeschooling... I think it best. Is that satisfactory?”

Ginevra nodded, feeling like she might not have learned much in sixth year anyway, but had no idea why she might think that. She could be angry about it later, when and if she could ever remember anything.

“Excellent. You get some well-deserved and needed rest. We will speak more as you heal up. Before the new school year starts. We have much to discuss about your new family,” Dumbledore inclined his head and started to leave. “Do not hesitate to call if you need anything. There is a charmed megaphone beside your bed. I will hear you. And before I leave,  _ Happy Birthday,  _ though I apologize that lying in the hospital wing is not the most ideal way to celebrate your seventeenth.”

  
  


Ginevra was allowed out of bed a couple of days later. Madame Golightly returned every day to feed the time traveling girl potions and check on her injuries. Finally allowed to get up and look in a mirror, Ginevra saw herself for the first time. The reflection was what she expected; a war-torn looking girl with long, thick red hair, a pallid complexion, and tired brown eyes. She would have a scar on her chin and another one on her shoulder, but the extent of her injuries had been healed. Madame Golightly had suggested that Ginevra eat a few hearty meals, disliking how peaky she was. The Healer had also remarked on the gaunt cheeks and dark-rimmed eyes, but figured it was fitting for her new backstory. Madame Golightly suggested the young redhead sleep and eat as much as she needed, but to return to her or Albus anytime Ginevra needed anything or had questions. Ginevra was certain Madame Golightly was worried about what would happen when her memories came back, perhaps expecting some sort of mental breakdown. Dumbledore let her explore, allowing her to acclimate herself with the school once again. She ate alone in the Great Hall for meals. Her wand had remained intact somehow through the time travel, so Ginevra had been practicing simple spells. She slept in the infirmary each night, as she could not enter any of the dormitories yet. Various things she came across triggered vague glimpses of what Ginevra could only assume was her past, or rather her future. In the Great Hall, the image of a pair of red-haired boys hovering over her obnoxiously lingered for a moment. In a hallway, she remembered walking with a curly-haired brunette whose face was blurry, they had both been laughing at something. 

Dumbledore asked her to his office a few days later, wanting to sit down with her and discuss the Pyrites family. Ginevra needed to get her story down if she were to play the part. After breaking her fast on sausage and thick, fluffy pancakes, Ginevra made her way to where Dumbledore had said his classroom was located. 

He was the Transfiguration professor, and his office was attached to the classroom. Professor Dumbledore did not have much decor, just a few knick knacks on his desk that the redhead could not figure out a use for. She sat down in the chair across from him, eyeing the stack of papers he had. Dumbledore had most certainly been prepared.

“You look much healthier, Miss Pyrites,” his eyes twinkled at her and a small smile graced his features. “Now, let me start on what I know of your family's origins. The Pyrites name has been in books as far back as the time the Founders of Hogwarts lived. In fact, one of the Pyrites' daughters in that era was supposed to have been a close friend of Rowena Ravenclaw’s. The Pyrites are linked to just about every other Wizarding family, the Pureblood ones at least. That shouldn't be surprising. There are only so many Purebloods you can wed before you start double-dipping.”

Ginevra nodded, scribbling into the thick blue notebook Madame Golightly had given her. She continued listening to Dumbledore talk about her pretend family. 

He started up again once she looked up at him, “Your ancestors have never been stuck to any specific House here at Hogwarts, which is unusual. Most Pureblood families end up in the same house as their ancestors and that repeated sorting takes on a sense of pride within the family, with the occasional surprise here and there. The first Pyrites were all Ravenclaws, perhaps due to their relative’s closeness with Rowena herself. After that, there were Gryffindors, Slytherins, and Hufflepuffs as well. In fact, your father, Kerwyn, was a Slytherin, as was your Uncle Alwyn, but the one who passed young, Micah, was a Hufflepuff. Contrary to popular belief, there are blood-elitist Hufflepuffs in existence. Micah Pyrites was one.”

Ginevra scribbled as fast as she could, underlining the Houses her most recent relatives had been placed in. “What about my ‘mother’?” she asked curiously, her quill ready to write.

“Ovaline Gamp was her name,” Dumbledore said fondly, recalling his former student. “Ravenclaw and a sweet young lady. Quiet, painfully shy, but very clever. It truly does surprise me that she might have betrayed her husband. I suppose all of those years in solitude can change someone.”

Nodding in agreement, Ginevra wrote that tidbit down and then looked up, “What did they do for work?”

“Housewife for your mother, Cursebreaker for Kerwyn,” Dumbledore replied. “I have a family tree here, I would recommend getting familiar with your siblings.”

She took the paper gingerly and glanced over it. Finding Kerwyn Pyrites and Ovaline Gamp was easy and her eyes followed the six lines that trailed down from their names. All daughters. The eldest, Beata Anne, born on 1 January, 1916. After that was a Morgan Aileen, born just over a year after Beata. Claudine Marie, Seraphine Amelia, and Diantha Fae were listed next. The last line led to Ginevra Molly Pyrites, born 11 August, 1926. She shuddered at the disappearance of Guinevere’s name. It seemed so wrong to be taking over a deceased girl's life. Ginevra hoped that if they were watching from the afterlife, they would forgive her and understand the severity of the situation. Time travelers made things difficult.

Her mind reeled with potential personalities and facts about these murdered girls. Beata, Ginevra thought, would be motherly and kind, always looking out for the others. She would quarrel with their father about seeing the world. Perhaps Morgan would be tall and brooding, the distant one of the sisters who couldn’t wait to get away. Claudine would be mysterious and artsy while Sera (she decided the nickname for her faux sister) was boy crazy and had once snuck off to a neighbours place to kiss a boy there. Oh, the trouble Sera got into! Diantha would have been Ginevra’s closest confidante, though they would squabble and bicker, they would always make up by the end of the day. She wrote these things down in her notebook, wondering if her guesses were even remotely close to the true personas of the deceased Pyrites. 

Dumbledore bid her farewell for the day and left her with the family tree. He promised to tell her more about the famous members of her family and all he knew about the family home. Ginevra found it bizarre and a bit depressing that she now knew more about this family than she could remember of her own. Madame Golightly kept reassuring her that memories would return in due time and to be patient and calm about the matter. It was hard to be patient about it. Knowing that she was in another time for a reason made Ginevra feel desperate to recall it. Her brain was like a constant itch that couldn't be satisfied. She was perpetually on the cusp of answers, but could never find them.

After lunch the next day, Ginevra found herself walking down a random corridor on the third floor. Her eyes took in the portraits, smiling back at those who greeted her. At the end of the hall was a door partially ajar. The placard beside it said: TROPHY ROOM. Ginevra hesitated, peering into the dark room timidly.

A portrait of a man with a violin and a big, orange cat spoke to her in a voice that whistled a bit, “Ssssweet child, you can go into the Trophy Room. It'sssss on the third floor today.”

Ginevra turned to the portrait, watching the man pet the fat cat on his lap, “Today? Does it change?”

The man nodded and grinned at her, his two front teeth were missing, “I would ssssay... just about e’ry other day itsss here, then e’ry other-other day it'sssss on the sssixth.”

“Oh! Neat,” she remarked, mumbled a quick thank you and snuck inside. She pulled the wand from her cloak and whispered, “Lumos!” The tip lit up and Ginevra wandered through the dimly lit area.

Placards with lists of Prefects and Heads for thousands of years adorned the walls. She glanced at some of the oldest names; Welsh ones that Ginevra knew there was little hope of pronouncing properly. There were glass cupboards of Quidditch trophies, House Cup awards (Ginevra noted that there were an awful lot of House Cups awarded to Gryffindor) and then random awards for individuals based on success in a certain art of magic or services to the school. Her eyes zeroed in on a dusty Quidditch award, dated 1832 to an Erromanx Z. Swigswoop for most goals in a year, the number of goals was listed at the bottom: 417. There was another dusty trophy of a unicorn, dated 1902 for a Tiope U. L. Selwyn for saving a baby unicorn. As she moved further down the wall, time progressed to newer awards. A bright and shiny award sat at the end of the timeline, gold and gleaming. Ginevra put her face up to the glass, reading it over.

“For services to the school... Tom M. Riddle, 1942,” Ginevra said slowly. She shivered, staring at the name on the award. Tom Riddle. That sounded painfully familiar. Her mind was racing, heartbeat quickening. A voice rang out in her head, “ _ Find Tom Riddle!”  _ Ginevra gasped and took a step back. Find Tom Riddle! That had to be important! But... why? Who  _ was  _ Tom Riddle? Was he someone that could help her? Something nagging in the back of her head told her not to let her guard down. Maybe this Riddle fellow was someone who died, or betrayed them. Was Ginevra supposed to stop him from doing so? “ _ Find Tom Riddle!” _ echoed over and over again in her mind.

“Ah, Miss Pyrites,” came a voice from behind her.

Shrieking, Ginevra whirled around with her wand pointed at the intruder. When she met the perplexed face of Albus Dumbledore with his arms up in surrender, she lowered her guard. Ginevra’s face reddened and she looked down at the floor, “I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to--”

The older man shook his head, “No, it is my fault for sneaking up on you as I did. I am merely grateful you didn't hex my head off, Miss Pyrites. Have you found anything interesting here in the Trophy Room?” Professor Dumbledore moved closer to the girl now that her wand was put away.

She licked her lips and nodded her head once, “I think so. Sir, what can you tell me about this person, this Tom M. Riddle? The award is from last year, so is he still a student here?” Ginevra bit her tongue to keep from firing off a further barrage of questions.

Dumbledore pursed his lips a moment, eyeing Ginevra curiously. He seemed unsure how to respond to the questions. After a moment, he spoke again, “Is Tom someone you know in the future? He would be... in his seventies, I think, in your time.”

Ginevra frowned. Dumbledore didn't seem very happy about these questions. Did he not like this Tom Riddle? She shrugged her shoulders and flipped her long hair out of her face, “I think I knew him.” For a moment, she regretted not telling the man what she really remembered, the voice telling her to find Tom Riddle and the strange panic that tensed her when she tried to think of him.

“Intriguing,” Dumbledore said simply, eyes boring into Ginevra’s. “Well, Tom is, indeed, a student here. Sixth year, as you will be. Slytherin House and one of the Prefects. Tom is bright, very intelligent. Most of the teachers here quite like him.”

It did not escape her notice that Dumbledore said  _ most teachers _ . She glanced over at the award, motioning toward it, “What did he do for the school?”

“Ah,” the man said with a sigh. “He... Well, a girl was accidentally killed last year. By an acromantula, apparently. There had been other attacks prior to the death and the school was on the verge of being closed. Tom figured out the mystery before action was taken.”

“So, he's a hero,” Ginevra said, not making it a question. Maybe he could have, should have, been a hero in her time. Perhaps, this Tom Riddle was the hero they needed. She absorbed the information. Riddle was a Slytherin Prefect, that would make him approachable, wouldn't it? As a new student, he might be able to assist her. Ideas whirled in her head. 

“Some say that, yes,” Dumbledore smiled, but it didn't meet his eyes. “You are sure you know Tom Riddle?”

“ _ Find Tom Riddle!” _ she recalled once again. Ginevra stared hard at the name on the trophy again, “Yes. I'm certain of it.”

“Very well,” he said, though he did not seem very happy about it. “Tom is well-liked by most students as well, though isn't known for being too friendly with those outside of his house. Never impolite, of course, but he sticks around with a crowd of Pureblooded individuals. Many of them are not kind to Halfbloods and Muggleborns, though Tom seems to remain impassive about it in public. However, as a Pyrites, your blood will allow you access to even the most elite of groups. In fact, I expect they will try to recruit you.”

“Oh,” Ginevra replied meekly. Recruit her? That sounded ominous. It made her feel a little uncomfortable. “Should I... let them recruit me, sir?”

“If your wish is to get closer to Riddle, perhaps. Some of the Slytherin Purebloods are suspicious of him. They don't think he is as pure as he claims to be. I fear I must warn you, Ginevra... Tom Riddle, he can be cruel and emotionless, though he plays the part of an innocent teacher's pet very well. Be on guard around him. He will manipulate and maneuver in whichever way will give him the best advantage,” Dumbledore told her carefully.

“I will,” Ginevra replied, feeling determined. She had a lot to think about tonight. “Were you looking for me for something, Professor?”

“Yes. I had some free time and thought it prudent we speak more about your family,” Dumbledore replied, though he sounded somewhat distracted. She was certain it had to do with Tom Riddle.


	3. Chapter Two

Ginevra balanced a tiny mountain of eggs and potatoes on her fork while she read over all of the information she had acquired on the Pyrites family from Dumbledore. She had spent the morning in front of a mirror in one of the girls bathrooms reciting her name over and over again. She needed it to sound effortless, no stumbling. Though she practiced for quite some time, the surname still sounded unfamiliar and strange on her lips. Giving up, Ginevra had decided to get a late breakfast in the Great Hall and study her new family’s history.

Chewing the egg and potato combination, Ginevra stared at what the Pyrites family home had looked like years and years ago. Dumbledore had said he doubted many changes were made to the manor, but gave her permission to embellish on a few small details. She had already decided that the walls of her bedroom were pink and that she used to have a pet cat named Fred. Why Fred? The girl wasn't sure, but the name had been ready on the tip of her tongue when the cat concept had been decided. 

Brown eyes stared at the waving flag in the black-and-white photograph. Dumbledore said it was the Pyrites family crest and had shown her a coloured picture of it. She flipped the page to gaze at the image, a grey backdrop with brilliant green flames in the middle. Fiendfyre. The symbol of the Pyrites family was Fiendfyre. This was due to Goliath Pyrites creating the spell for the green, uncontrollable flames. Ginevra underlined Goliath’s name in red ink on her list of important family members. 

That list was surprisingly long, though Dumbledore said it was expected for a family as old as the Pyrites’. Ginevra’s eyes skimmed over the lineup. There was Pysis Pyrites, born in 1702, who had been a part of a group called the Howling 14. They were a bunch of people who willingly had themselves turned into werewolves. Another name of importance was Charles Pyrites, a bloke born in the 1820s who wed a Muggle woman. Dumbledore made sure to tell Ginevra that  _ her _ line did not descend from that. Her favourite important Pyrites family member was Lilith Pyrites, who became the first female member of the Wizengamot in 1812. There had been a bit about her in history books too. Ginevra had gone to the library to see what she could find on any Pyrites family members. Lilith had been a prankster and a lover of Quidditch. She owned six horses, refused to wed her betrothed, and encouraged women to seek careers beyond motherhood. The single picture Ginevra could find was in a book called  _ The Wizengamot - 1800-1850. _ The picture was black-and-white, but Ginevra thought she too might have been red haired. Lilith must have been about sixty or so when the photo was taken and age lines could be seen around the smirk on her face, as well as around her eyes. She looked clever and funny. 

Shutting her book, Ginevra sighed. Her skull was filled with facts about the Pyrites family and the odd tidbits Ginevra created for her sisters. Rubbing her temple with a free hand, she used her other to grab her fork, then spear a sausage and eat it. As she finished, her plate disappeared. Ginevra sat there with her pumpkin juice, thinking about the impending school year. There would be four tables in the Great Hall instead of one, Ginevra knew for Dumbledore had told her. All sorts of people her age would be here with her and she did not doubt they would have questions.

“Hello, my name is Ginevra Pyrites,” she said aloud, emphasizing the R-sound. Clearing her throat, she tried again, “Hi! It's great to meet you. I'm Ginevra PYritES.” No, that was too many inflections. She sighed and stared into her cup and said simply, “Hi. I'm Ginny. Ginny Pyrites.”

Ginny.  _ Now  _ she felt better. A slight inflection at the end of the surname sounded more natural and the feeling of a shorter, less stuffy sounding first name fit her much better. Ginny smiled and tried out, “Yes. It's Ginevra, but you can call me Ginny, if you'd like.” She suddenly remembered the sound of people saying her name.

“ _ Ginny! GINNY! I am so sorry!” _

_ “Look out for the bludger, Ginny!” _

_ “Oh, Ginny, I think I see a wrackspurt.” _

“Oh,” she gasped and felt tears sting her eyes. That last memory, Ginny recalled a willowy blonde with big eyes and a dreamy look on her face. Ginny thought of her fondly. That girl must have been a friend, a close one. She left her cup and exited the Great Hall. Ginny needed to practice her magic so that she didn't end up being totally inept when classes began.

Dumbledore had asked her to practice the basics in an empty classroom near his office. Apparently, the room had once been a Home Ec type class for young girls who were expected to be housewives, but they had done away with that several years ago. It made Ginny think of Lilith Pyrites and knew that she’d been a woman who would want done away with a class like that. Opening up a book of basic spells, Ginny read over  _ Aguamenti _ and braced herself to try it. Most of the easy spells had come naturally. Dumbledore seemed to expect that, as some of it would be second nature to her.

The hours passed and Ginny found herself excelling at everything she tried. It was quite the confidence boost. Pleased, she shut the book and grabbed another one that Dumbledore had left. It was  _ Advanced Magic _ , a book for Defence Against the Dark Arts. She would be learning a lot of this during her next two years here. Much of it looked daunting, yet exciting. She was still pouring over the time when Dumbledore appeared.

“Ah, everything is going well?” Albus Dumbledore asked, clasping his hands in front of him. 

“I think so,” Ginny answered cheerfully. “Professor. Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he responded jovially, taking another step into the room. Dumbledore stood over her, looking down at the book as if he expected a question about the material.

“Do you think... I can go back to my own time when I'm done here?” Ginny asked slowly. The question had been burning a hole in her pocket for a few days now and nothing she read on time traveling would give a concrete answer about the matter. She had begun to learn that Albus Dumbledore had a wealth of knowledge and she ought to use it when possible. 

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, taking in the curious brown eyes of Ginevra Weasley, who would not be born for many more years. He took in a deep breath, “From what I know of Time Turners... No. They are not meant for going back as far in time as this. Minerva must have had a newer model in the future. Generally when one is used, the time traveler would go back a few hours and live that time again... in congruence with their other self. Time would catch up and the traveler would remain while the other would be performing the act of time travel, righting the balance again. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“I think so,” Ginny said, sounding unsurprised. This was the answer she expected. “So, I would stay here in 1943, eventually I might surpass the future me, who will always travel to this time?”

“Well, theoretically yes... though, forgive me for saying this, but you are a time  _ meddler _ . You are here with the express purpose of fixing the future. It could be that you will never be born, or your future self might feel an urge to time travel on that fated day in 1998 for no reason at all other than fate wanting to close the loop. I must admit, my studies on time traveling were slim. I learned long ago to let the past be,” he paused and then added hurriedly. “Not that I believe your reasons for doing so are illegitimate. I am sure the world must be bleak for you, if Minerva McGonagall sent you here to fix it. In short, Miss Pyrites, I'm not certain what will happen to you, but I find it unlikely that you will return to your time and retain the same form, as that is not how Time Turners function. You may arrive at that time naturally, of course. Aging as we all do, making you in your seventies then. It might even be that you would fade from existence because your life doesn’t exist in the future! The options are vast. I am sorry. I know that is probably not what you had hoped for.”

“No,” she admitted softly. “But, I'm not surprised at all. The situation must have been dire for us to end up going this route. I do wish I could remember it. I imagine I'll only hurt more when and if I do have memories again. I'll know what exactly I would be missing in those years.”

“Very true,” Dumbledore said somberly. He paused a moment before speaking again, “I did come to tell you... the Headmaster is returning tomorrow. He looks forward to speaking with you. I have informed him of our plan.”

“Oh, great,” Ginevra said indifferently. “What about the other professors?”

“They will be coming soon. Armando always likes coming back a little earlier than everyone else. Most years, he is already here by this time! But, him and his wife went to Peru for the summer. According to his last letter, they are pleasantly sunburnt and ready to return to England,” Dumbledore told her.

“Peru?” Ginny repeated, raising an eyebrow. She was  _ fairly certain _ that was in South America. “Wow. Is there a Wizarding World in Peru?”

“If my memory serves me right, there is, but it is very small. Most witches and wizards in South America live in Brazil, actually. There is a school there as well - Castelobruxo! I had the pleasure of visiting it once. Very lovely, very wonderful place and the Headmistress was exceptionally delightful! I do recommend seeing it yourself one day,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “They have a bigger Great Hall than we do, probably about three times larger, and the decor is impeccable.”

Ginny wasn't sure what to say about Brazilian decor, but nodded in agreement regardless. A thought crossed her mind suddenly, “Oh, er, Professor Dumbledore... I'm going to need school supplies and clothes.” She pointed to the boring slacks and white blouse she had been supplied while she had stayed at Hogwarts. “Will I be able to get that stuff before the term starts?”

“Of course! I thought I might escort you to Diagon Alley myself, after you have met with the Headmaster,” Dumbledore replied, clasping his hands in front of him. “Because word has spread about your  _ survival _ , there will be curious and prying eyes. I thought it would be best for the public to see you with me, knowing you're attending Hogwarts. I can, ah, shoo away anyone bothersome and help you purchase your books and essentials.”

She smiled at the polite man, grateful for this thoughtfulness, “Thanks. That would be appreciated, sir.”

His pale, blue eyes stared intently at her for a few, long seconds before glancing down at her book, “Have you come across anything troublesome? My expertise is in Transfiguration, though I have dabbled in Charms and defensive magic as well. I'm afraid I am rather weak in Potions, never did have the patience to wait for things to brew and settle.”

“Not so far, I've worked on my basics and a few Charms and Transfiguration spells that seem necessary for me to know at my age. I've gotten shields and a few jinxes down too. I hope I'm not too far behind the other students. I haven't looked too much into Potions since I have no cauldron or supplies. I did start to read a book, but... er, I might be like you, Professor, it sounds awfully tedious,” Ginny laughed a bit.

“Well,” Dumbledore started to say slowly, looking a bit hesitant to speak his mind. “Ah, Tom Riddle happens to be great with Potions, if you find yourself needing a tutor.”

“Oh,” Ginny replied. She really wanted to know more about why Professor Dumbledore seemed so bothered by Riddle. He had referred to the boy as manipulative, which made Ginny frown. Maybe Riddle was just bossy? She cleared her throat and moved on, “What classes am I enrolled in? Or have I not been yet?”

“Not officially no, but I was going to suggest we enroll you in some of the more basic, core classes. Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Defense... Perhaps Care of Magical Creatures? I was thinking also History of Magic. Have you any thoughts on what classes you want?” Dumbledore asked her.

Thinking a moment, Ginny realized she didn't really have much of an opinion. Sure, Potions sounded boring, but it would probably be best for her to learn. Besides, if Dumbledore was correct (as Ginny assumed he was), then she would be able to speak to Tom Riddle. “That sounds fine, all of that,” Ginny answered.

Dumbledore left her to continue studying shortly after their conversation about classes, but Ginny was done with reading. The impending school year made her a little nervous. Sure, it didn't help that Ginny didn't belong in this era nor could she remember anything about her old life. But, combine that with the fear of not making any friends and things being awkward because she would be taking on the identity of Guinevere Pyrites... it was a potent recipe for anxiety. She didn’t  _ want _ to be the new girl; pretending to be someone she wasn't. Ginny needed to act like someone who has just lost her family, though perhaps, that wouldn't be very difficult since she, herself, had come from something terrible and hopeless. But still, what if she smiled or laughed too much and another student grew suspicious? 

The worst part of all was that it was very likely she would get her memory back soon, as Madame Golightly expected she would and when that happened, things would be very complicated. According to the Healer, stress-related amnesia would go away as she adjusted to the current situation. Ginny would remember who she had lost and what she would be missing while stuck here in 1943. Dumbledore said it seemed unlikely she could return to her own time. Ginny thought that fact would suck much more with a memory. She could cease to exist... she may never be born! Suppressing a shudder, Ginny stormed out of the classroom to find something else to distract her from her questionable fate.

  
  


Headmaster Dippet proved to be quite an insufferable person. Everything from his haughty attitude to his wheezy voice grated on Ginny’s nerves. All she could do was smile stiffly while he prattled on about  _ time meddlers _ interfering with his school, meanwhile apologizing half-heartedly for whatever losses she encountered in the future. Not once, did the very sunburnt Headmaster acknowledge the fact that Ginny was suffering from amnesia. When there was finally a lull in the conversation, Dumbledore brought up taking Ginny to Diagon Alley. Of course, the Headmaster approved and disappeared to get Ginny officially enrolled in her classes and put her fake name on the lists. She asked him if it were possible to do her house sorting early, but Dippet refused and told her the students would enjoy seeing the new girl get sorted.

Irritated at being told she was going to be a spectacle, Ginny followed Dumbledore to the floo in Dippet’s office. The wise man shot her an apologetic glance before showing her how to use the floo. Ginny went first, dropping the floo powder down at her feet and calling out for the Leaky Cauldron like an old pro.

She dusted off her slacks when she arrived in the pub’s fireplace. Quickly, Ginny scurried to the side so Dumbledore could arrive without landing on her. Everyone stared at the two of them and Ginny felt self-conscious. People must have put two and two together and guessed who she was pretending to be. Trailing after the professor, Ginny kept her head down and tried to appear more shy and afraid than she actually was. A girl who had never been allowed to leave her family grounds ought to be timid and scared, Ginny decided. She hid her face behind her long hair while Dumbledore greeted several patrons at the bar and shook hands with an elderly wizard who happened to be missing an eye.

“Pardon us, I cannot stay to chat this time. School business. The new year starts shortly,” Dumbledore quipped to a squat woman who attempted to bar his exit. “Come, Ginevra, we will stop by Gringotts first.”

“Is she--” the woman started to ask, gasping and covering her mouth with a shaky hand. Her ocean-colored eyes were watery. It made Ginny’s stomach twist into knots. 

“Heloise,” Dumbledore acknowledged her, managing to not sound even mildly impatient. “I am in a hurry today, my apologies, please allow us through.” People were murmuring, but Dumbledore and Ginny escaped without another word said to either of them. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ginny took that moment to look around. 

_ Everything _ about Diagon Alley seemed familiar! Her heart fluttered, making her feel like she was at home. Ginny must have come here dozens of times. She took a step forward, taking everything in. People were staring, but Ginny didn't care at the moment. Being in Diagon felt right.

“I take it you must have been here before,” Dumbledore came up beside her, smiling. “Your expression says a lot. Well, you have a wand already, so let's get your trunk first, after Gringotts of course. We can put your books and new clothes in it and cast a featherweight charm on it.”

Nodding, Ginny followed Dumbledore, but couldn't stop gazing at everything. Nothing came to her when she tried to recall memories of Diagon Alley, but there was no doubt in her mind that she had been here before countless times.

Gringotts was quiet and the two got in line behind an irate wizard holding a small, burlap sack of coins in his hands. He was muttering angrily as he waited for a vacant Goblin to assist him. Ginny watched the Goblins work quickly, shuffling through papers and counting money. Ginny didn't know what to expect. Would they ask her questions about her heritage?

When they reached the next available Goblin, Dumbledore did the talking, “Hello Grollick, you received my letter, did you not?”

The Goblin held up his hand for Dumbledore to stop talking and tottered off toward a stack of parchment on an already cluttered desk. Grollick peered at a few before finding the right one and returning to the waiting Ginny and Dumbledore. Clearing his throat first, Grollick began to speak in a thick, irritated voice, “Of course we did, Professor Dumbledore. You are here with Ginevra M. Pyrites, heir to the Pyrites family fortune? Do you have the key?”

Though he remained smiling, Dumbledore’s tone was stern, “Grollick. You know very well that Miss Pyrites does not have her key and it was destroyed along with her home.” Ginevra Pyrites hung her head, looking miserable and embarrassed. She glanced at the goblin through her hair. He was eyeing her very cautiously. Dumbledore spoke up again, “This is a  _ special case _ . The Ministry should have signed off on having a new key made for her. I am here to act as her temporary guardian though Miss Pyrites has turned seventeen just about a week ago. Regardless, I have offered to sign and vouch for the young lady due to this unfortunate dilemma.”

“Special circumstances, yes. Rare situation, indeed. Not typically something we permit. The Ministry has identified her then?”

“Of course. I was a witness.”

Ginny kept her face hidden, not wanting the creepy Goblin to see the guilt displayed plainly on her face. She suddenly wondered why the Ministry had never come to see her or come to check that she actually existed. This seemed like a large flaw in Dumbledore’s plan and she would ask him about it once they were done here.

After several long moments, the very reluctant Grollick motioned for them to come with him around the podium. In silence, Grollick brought them to a large, golden machine with silver knobs and buttons. With practiced hands, Grollick used it to create a key for Ginny. He handed her a roll of parchment to sign, which she did hastily, and then held out the key to the red haired girl. He looked extremely put off by it and muttered under his breath, “Do  _ not  _ lose or  _ misplace  _ this one.”

“Yes, of course,” Ginny croaked and snatched the still-warm key from the angry Goblin’s hands. Guilt filled her up again as she clutched the key close to her.  _ Please forgive me _ , she thought to herself, hoping that none of the Pyrites family came to haunt her for this.

Grollick grabbed a torch and led them to a vacant cart at the end of a dimly lit passageway. The trio climbed into the cart together and took off for vault 213, the ancient safe place for all of the Pyrites' wealth.

The ride was short, since Ginny’s fake family had been around for so long that they got one of the earliest vaults at Gringotts. Grollick used his hands to unlock some bizarre lock mechanisms and then asked for the key. Ginny gave it to him gingerly and watched as he unlocked the vault. Her jaw nearly hit the floor when she peered inside.

Piles and piles of gold, silver, and bronze were stacked up to the ceiling. There were no trinkets in this vault, as Dumbledore suggested there might have been. Ginny stared at it with her mouth open, unable to process just how filthy rich the Pyrites family was. “H-How much is in here?” she stammered, wincing at how shrill her voice sounded.

Grollick sighed and pressed the tips of his fingers to his wrinkled forehead, “Had you asked this question upstairs, I could have told you the exact number.”

“Estimate then,” Ginny told him, still staring in awe. She had not moved a step towards the gleaming money.

“Several million galleons, I would wager,” Grollick sounded as if he were bored, as if  _ millions of galleons _ were an everyday thing. 

Dumbledore lay a hand on Ginny’s shoulder, startling her. He motioned to the vault and spoke delicately, “I recommend you only take what you might need for supplies. No reason to keep anything more on your person.”

“H-how much then?” Ginny took a step toward the gold, terrified of actually touching it. This wasn't hers! This belonged to six dead daughters and their dead parents! She swallowed and grabbed a handful. It felt like shame.

“Let's say... one hundred and fifty or so galleons. You should have extra for Hogsmeade trips with that much,” Dumbledore replied simply, offering a plain, brown money pouch toward her.

As quickly as she could manage, Ginny counted out a hundred and fifty-five galleons and shoved it into the pouch. She slipped it into the pocket of the school pants she was currently wearing and quickly rushed out of the vault to let Grollick close it up. 

“If you will need more money,” Grollick said harshly as he turned to face Ginny and Dumbledore once the vault was sealed again. “You can request it through a money order form. Hogwarts should have them as should the post office in Hogsmeade. The signature on the form will be compared to the one you signed today. The max we send by post is ten galleons per month. No  _ special circumstances _ .”

The cart ride back was as silent and short as the way down to the vault. Ginny relaxed once her and Dumbledore exited Gringotts. She let out a heavy sigh as they walked down the steps and reached the cobblestone streets.

“I don't think I like that place much,” Ginny muttered, making the older professor chuckle.

“A little secret between you and I... I am not very fond of it either,” Dumbledore told her as he led her toward a shop to purchase a trunk from. 

It was the quickest stop of the trip. Ginny picked out an affordable, but good-looking brown trunk with a lock that would bond with her fingerprints. She wasn’t terribly concerned about theft, but Ginny would be keeping all of her notes about the Pyrites family there. Not to mention if she remembered anything about her past (future?) and happened to record it... Well, prying eyes would be an inconvenience she did not desire. Ginny preferred to be safe, rather than sorry.

The next stop was the bookstore. Dumbledore cast a levitation charm on her trunk, though Ginny had wanted to do the magic herself as a test. The trunk trailed behind them as Ginny picked out her school books, a day planner, and a couple of books that looked interesting about defensive magics. Dumbledore remained by her side patiently as Ginny stared at a book titled  _ Quidditch Bests of the 1930s. _

“Quidditch fan?” Dumbledore asked her quietly, in a voice the bug-eyed shopkeeper could not overhear. 

She could recall how it felt to fly; the firm feeling of the broom handle, the wind in her hair, and the thrill of the game. Ginny was certain she had once played, “I think I used to play.”

“Did you?” he asked, sounding somewhat surprised. “Women are, indeed, allowed on teams, in case you were curious about trying out for your house. Most don't bother, the stereotypes do still linger. I would encourage it, if it would make you happy. It wouldn’t be unlikely for you to have flown around the family estate. It  _ was _ quite vast.”

“I might try out, if the mood strikes,” Ginny smiled to herself and grabbed the book. She moved up to the front to buy her goods, forking over the money to pay for it. The shopkeeper continued to stare at her, his eyes wide with unspoken questions and curiosity. 

It was not long before her trunk was filled with books, quills, pots of ink, cauldrons, basic potion ingredients, and a few other odds and ends. Next came clothing shopping. She was in dire need of girlish accessories and was very grateful for Dumbledore’s sudden desire to go look for some sweets at the candy shop. 

The fashion available seemed odd to Ginevra. She awkwardly asked the busty blonde girl at the cash register for help. Mags, as she introduced herself, was more than eager to assist. Equipped with measuring tape, Mags nudged Ginny into a dressing room and helped measure her bust, giving Ginny her size according to 1940s bras. They only came in black, white, and tan so Ginny got one of each and quickly grabbed packages of underwear in similar colors. 

Mags then brought Ginny over to the Hogwarts uniforms, pulling out a skirt in the size they had determined, “Slacks, while they’re comfortable and all, don’t offer the same appeal to blokes as skirts do.” She held up the grey, knee-length, pleated skirt up to Ginny’s waist and nodded. “This will work on you, love. I recommend getting at least five skirts.”

Ginny obliged, but also slipped a pair of black slacks into the pile. Fashionable or not, Ginny couldn’t help but feel she was probably going to feel more at home in pants. Still, she didn’t want to appear totally out of sync with the times. A handful of white blouses and grey vests with tiny silver buttons were also added into the pile. Mags tossed a package of white, cotton socks onto the counter as well. 

Weekend clothes were by far more interesting. The styles of womens clothing were interesting, to say the least. With Mags help, she picked up three casual dresses with long, wizard's sleeves, and ruffled collars; one in black, one in a dark blue, and the other in emerald green. The skirts of the era were long and plain, but Mags recommended the cinched-middle, wizard sleeved jackets to go with them.

“They accentuate your waist and the blokes, they love it!” Mags smiled, holding up a white and a black version. “They’ll go with everything, love.”

A winter cloak and a summer cloak were also added to her pile, as well as a couple of cardigans and button-down blouses in an array of colours. The last addition were shoes; flats for school attire and a pair of ankle boots. Mags was insistent that Ginny would be absolutely fashionable and attractive in her new attire. The blonde helped Ginny place everything into her trunk once she paid.

“You will look absolutely darling in these,” Mags beamed as she began to fold the dresses. “Love, I have to ask and pardon me for it, but are you the Pyrites girl?”

Ginny froze and felt her face go red. She swallowed and nodded, “I am. My name’s Ginny. I... really appreciate your help today. All of my clothes were destroyed.” 

Mags stuck out her bottom lip and gave Ginny an affectionate pat on the arm, “I’m so sorry, love. Grindelwald’s followers will do anything to get what they want. It makes me bloody sick! An old friend of mine was killed last year by his men for refusing to join. I am so sorry for your loss, I truly am.” She folded the last item and clapped her hands together, “Well, that’s the lot! You will adore Hogwarts, Ginny. I did and sometimes, I even miss it. I wish you great luck, okay?”

“Thank you, Mags,” Ginny smiled brightly at the boisterous woman and waved at her as she left to go find Dumbledore. 

Dumbledore was down the road at the ice cream parlour, speaking with a dark-haired individual who was sitting at a seat outside. Ginny approached slowly, eyeing the boy the professor was talking to. He was smiling politely, with dark hair and dark eyes. She noticed his posture was very stiff and his hands were folded neatly over a book. Dumbledore was smiling too, though as Ginny approached, she realized it appeared to be more of a grimace. As she got even closer, her stomach churned when the dark-haired boy finally noticed her. Something about him made her stop in her tracks, her face reddening again. She stared down at her feet, too afraid to meet his eyes.

“Ah, Ginevra,” Dumbledore said smoothly, motioning for the girl to come to his side. Ginny obeyed slowly, with her trunk still hovering behind her. “Might I introduce you to one of your soon-to-be classmates? This is Tom Riddle, a sixth year like yourself, and Slytherin Prefect. Tom, this is Ginevra Pyrites.”

Ginny’s mouth went dry and she suddenly felt like running away. She didn’t want to talk to Tom Riddle, she wasn’t ready for this. She tried to quell the fear in her voice as she spoke, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. Uhm, you can call me Ginny, if you’d like.” She flushed again at how stupid and shrill her voice sounded. Thankfully, her character had been sheltered her whole life, so perhaps her shaky attitude would be expected.

Surprising her, Tom Riddle stood up from his seat and extended a hand to her. She shook it hesitantly, noting how cool his touch was. Tom’s voice was as sweet as honey when he replied, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ginny. I am very sorry for your losses. If you find yourself lost or overwhelmed at Hogwarts, I would be more than happy to guide you.” He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. His stare was dark and curious, making Ginny feel as if he could see right through her.

“Thank you, I’m sure I will need it,” Ginny replied, still flustered, and let go of his hand. She looked down at her feet, unable to look at Tom Riddle any longer. She had no idea why her reaction was so strong. She must have known him in the future. No matter how much Ginny tried to reason with herself, the overwhelming urge to run away remained.  _ ‘Stop being foolish,’ _ Ginny reprimanded herself internally. Forcing herself to look up again, she noticed Tom was still staring at her, though he was seated once more. He was saying something to Dumbledore, but Ginny didn’t hear what it was. She looked fixedly into his dark eyes, feeling strangely frightened again. He came off as a nice, polite person, but there was something eerie about his smile and his eyes. Overall, Ginny had to admit he was very handsome and figured he must have many admirers. No matter how much Ginny tried to reason with herself, she could not shake the unease.

As they walked away from Tom Riddle, Dumbledore asked Ginny if she was well. Uncertain how to describe what she was feeling, Ginny replied that she was fine and that Tom Riddle seemed like a nice boy. Dumbledore didn’t look like he believed her in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and love on this. 
> 
> It's appreciated <3.


	4. Chapter Three

Most of the professors and Hogwarts staff were very pleasant individuals.

A couple of them were not terribly friendly, like Silvanus Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures professor. He was sallow, short-tempered, and missing a few fingers on his left hand. Dumbledore introduced her, mentioning that Ginny would be in his class and the man had only grunted and walked away, leaving Ginny feeling remorseful over her decision to be in his class. The Ancient Runes professor who preferred to be called  _ Madame _ over Professor was a thick woman with watery green eyes and greying hair. She spoke with an accent Ginny could not place and refused to shake her hand when it was offered. Dumbledore had leaned over to whisper that Madame Munroe disliked just about everyone and not to take it offensively.

The Potions master, Horace Slughorn was friendly enough to make up for Kettleburn and Madame Munroe. He was quick to mention an array of Pyrites’ that he had taught, including Ginny’s faux father. Slughorn apologized about thirty times for their untimely deaths and mentioned hoping to speak with her more as the school year went on. Before he’d left, Slughorn also brought up some club he ran and wanted to see her in. Professor Portright, the Muggle Studies teacher who had been the one to find Ginny, was the only other staff member to know about her special circumstances and Ginny was grateful he had not spouted off his discovery to more people. He mentioned quietly to Ginny that he was glad to see her in better shape and promised to keep her secret. She liked him instantly. Portright was an older gentleman with a big, bushy black and grey beard, but an entire head of white hair that stuck out in all directions. He wore thick glasses, was almost as rotund as Slughorn, but seemed infinitely more genuine than the Potions master. When he laughed, it was loud and barking, which made Ginny smile and feel right at home for some reason.

She was permitted to eat in the Great Hall with them for meals as the days led up to the arrival of the rest of the students and Ginny found herself most inclined to talk to Professor Portright and the Arithmancy instructor, Geralt Almasy. Professor Almasy was Head of House for Hufflepuff and very handsome. He must have only been about thirty or so years old, with long dirty blonde hair that he tied back. His facial hair was well-kempt and his teeth were perfectly white and straight. He had the physique of one of the Quidditch Beaters straight out of Ginny’s new book. It helped too that Professor Almasy had the bluest eyes Ginny could ever recall seeing. To add to his already pleasant appearance, the Arithmancy teacher was incredibly nice and friendly as well. Ginny hadn’t been able to hide her grin when he mentioned hoping she would end up in his house.

A couple of Ministry officials came by the school before the year began, mostly to speak with Dumbledore, but looked Ginny over and questioned her. She provided what she knew about the Pyrites family and did her best to answer truthfully, feeling uncertain as they nodded their heads slowly at her responses. In the end, Dumbledore informed that all seemed well and this was a formality, due to her backstory of being discovered alive at the scene. Dumbledore had been the one to claim he found her. Ginny attempted to question him on the lies the man told to the Ministry, but the wise-seeming wizard only smiled and told her not to worry about any of it.

  
  


The day before the rest of the students were due to arrive, Ginny awoke very late in the morning and shot out of bed in an absolute panic, shouting loud enough to scare Madame Golightly half to death. Unable to calm the girl down, Madame Golightly summoned Dumbledore by her kangaroo Patronus and tried to force Ginny to sit down on the bed. The time traveler was still hysterical when Dumbledore showed up.

Ginny could not form coherent sentences. There was too much going on in her head to make sense of any of it. She rocked back and forth, cowering from the hands that reached for her. Everyone was dead, everyone was dead, holy-fucking-Merlin, everyone was dead! She finally looked up at Dumbledore and began to sob again.

“Eva, fetch a calming draught please,” Dumbledore said sternly, taking a step toward the emotionally distraught girl. “Ginevra? Have you remembered something?”

Red eyes and snake-like features stared at her. She could hear the parseltongue, she could see Harry dying for the second time at his feet. Fred’s body laying on the floor next to some rubble. Colin Creevey was face down with blood pouring out from him. Ginny had found him, along with Oliver Wood. She swallowed and tried to blink away the images. A black diary with Tom Riddle’s name written upon its cover. She had written in it; written to Tom Riddle! He had been her best friend, she had trusted him and confided in him. She was afraid of him, so afraid, but a tiny part of her missed having that confidante. McGonagall’s voice rang out in her head, “ _ Find Tom Riddle! Kill him, change him!” _ Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, Ginny didn’t want to  _ kill _ anyone. She’d barely been able to fire the first killing spell she ever cast, at Antonin Dolohov as he aimed for Madame Hooch. Change Voldemort? Ha! She wanted to strangle McGonagall for sending her here, for making her correct the fate of the world. Ginny Weasley was a child, a girl who knew nothing. How was she to make things right? Who did Minerva McGonagall think she was for sending Ginny back in time with no way home? Ginny screamed and tugged at her hair.

Madame Golightly tried to force feed Ginny the calming draught, but Ginny slapped her arm away. Dumbledore grabbed Ginny by the shoulders and held her firmly while Madame Golightly fed her the potion. She sputtered and spat, but most of it went down her throat.

It only took seconds for Ginny to relax enough to stop screaming. She was still distraught, still shaking, and the images of what had happened still played in her head. Cedric died in her third year, that was when Voldemort returned to power. Voldemort, who was also known as Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle who lied to Ginny, who had pretended to be so sweet and be her very best friend. That man became Voldemort. Voldemort had killed Harry twice. The first time hadn’t worked, Harry returned to fight only and die again. His  _ minions _ killed her friends and her family. Dolohov ended up killing Remus Lupin and Seamus Finnigan. Ginny had ended Dolohov sometime after that while he was fighting Madame Hooch and a couple of Ravenclaws. Fenrir and his werewolves had descended hungrily upon Lavender Brown and then Parvati and Padma Patil, before killing Professor Trelawney. Fenrir himself had taken out Hagrid too. Ginny hiccuped and tried not to think about it, but instead she remembered her mum. Her  _ mum _ killed Bellatrix Lestrange, but Rodolphus sought revenge on Molly Weasley shortly after. Ginny hadn’t even known the fate of her father when she had been sent back to 1943, but could only assume the worst. Last Ginny could recall was that her father and Kingsley had run off trying to get to Voldemort himself.

“Ginevra?” Dumbledore asked softly, waving a hand in front of her eyes. “Ginevra... is it safe to say your memory has returned? What has happened?”

“They are all dead,” she whispered through tears. “You died on the Astronomy Tower in 1997. We lost, Professor Dumbledore. We lost so much. E-everyone I loved... they were all killed. Our numbers were d-diminished. Oh, Merlin, I’m stuck here and I have to save everyone and I don’t know  _ how _ .”

“Why did everyone die?” Madame Golightly whispered, her dark face had taken on a hint of green. “Who? Why?”

“He called himself L-Lord Voldemort,” Ginny spat, wiping her eyes angrily. “He collected followers, he made Horcruxes.” At this, Dumbledore’s eyes widened, but Ginny continued, “Harry tried to stop him, but failed. I was sent back in time to kill him or fix him, but I don’t know if I can do either.”

Dumbledore and Madame Golightly exchanged dark looks with one another. With a heavy sigh, Dumbledore sat down on the cot beside Ginny, “Tom Riddle.”

She nodded and whimpered, “I trusted him once. And he-- and he--”

“You must be careful,” Dumbledore said quietly, staring at a spot on the floor. “I have suspected him to be dangerous for quite some time. Knowing this now, I fear we don’t have much time to right the situation. Tom is already quite deep into the Dark Arts.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Ginny said weakly, rubbing at her face. She took the striped handkerchief from Madame Golightly and blotted at her eyes and nose. Merlin, did she hate crying.

Dumbledore took Ginny’s free hand and clasped it in between his own, “I believe there is still hope. Certainly, I shouldn’t know about this future. You shouldn’t be here, but you are and it’s for a  _ reason _ . You knew Tom Riddle? You trusted him? Might be possible to build that trust again and show him that friendship is something worth fighting for. I don’t believe he has had a true friend his entire life, he has only ever used people for what they can offer him. His group is nothing more than minions to do his bidding. That future you came from cannot come to be. Whatever happens, try to remember that  _ this _ Tom Riddle has not become what you remember. He’s sixteen years old. There may still be hope, though I admit, it may be small.”

Ginny shook her head, wrenching her hand away from Dumbledore. She jumped up, scaring Madame Golightly, and began to pace. She dabbed at her face again, “I can’t do this. I want-- I want to go home.”

“Home doesn’t exist for you,” Dumbledore told her softly. “I have already told you the likelihood of return is slim, Miss Weasley. This--” he waved his hand around. “--will have to be your home now. 1943 is your timeline. You must make the most of it to prevent that future, do you understand how imperative that is?”

“I know, but I don’t know if I can,” she admitted miserably. “The thought of killing someone else in cold blood makes me sick, even if it is Lord Voldemort. I had to do it before, but I didn’t want to. I really didn’t want to kill anyone. And, befriending him? I don’t think I can do that either. I trusted him once and nearly died for it. Like  _ hell _ I will do that again.”

“I think that might be your only choice if you are not certain about ending him,” Dumbledore said simply. “Murdering someone comes with consequences both legally and mentally. I do not doubt that in your original timeline, you only killed to save yourself and others. Cold-blooded murder is something else entirely. Think about it. There is still time. I’m sorry you have been forced to remember such unpleasantries. Would you like a dreamless sleep potion? Students arrive tomorrow and you will be sorted then, we will need you somewhat kept together I’m afraid.”

“Yes please,” Ginny nodded, eager to forget what the memories that now filled her head like the stuffing of a stuffed animal.

Though it was only noon, Madame Golightly retrieved a half-vial of dreamless sleeping draught. Ginny managed to sleep peacefully until supper, where she forced a smile and ate with the professors, thinking about how the hell she would save the world from the fate that befell Ginny’s friends and family in 1998.

  
  


To say she was anxious about the Sorting and her first day of school in 1943 would be an understatement. Ginny was nearly a wreck again, but managed to keep it together. She supposed the students would expect a girl from a recently murdered family to be a little jumpy anyway. 

The idea of seeing Tom Riddle again made Ginny feel nauseated, but she was trying to convince herself that she could fix everything somehow. She fantasized about poisoning his soup or suffocating him in his sleep, but knew that wasn’t who she was. Ginny Weasley was not a cold-blooded killer. She would defend herself if she had to, and others of course. Perhaps, if Riddle attacked her, she could do it. But, most of all, how could she make friends with  _ him _ ? He had killed people Ginny loved, had ruined the lives of so many people.  _ No _ , she had to remind herself, Tom Riddle’s future self had done those things. Would it be possible to befriend him when she knew what he became? It was hard to believe so, but Ginny needed to do something. Maybe, she could start with getting into his circle and gaining his trust. Maybe, Tom Riddle could feel the pain of being betrayed, just as she had.

Ginny dressed in her new school clothes that Mags helped her pick out. The Hogwarts school uniform of the 1940s was much more conservative than in the 1990s. The pleated, grey skirt fell to her knees and her white socks covered her ankles, leaving only a bit of her shins visible. The grey vest buttoned up tight over her bust, making Ginny feel a little smug as well as sad. Who did she have to impress here? Harry was dead... no, he wasn’t even  _ born _ yet. Ginny quickly began to brush out her thick hair and then forced a smile onto her face. It was shaky and completely disingenuous, but maybe that would be fitting for the last surviving daughter of Kerwyn and Ovaline Pyrites. She fixed the black tie that adorned her neck, knowing that in the next few hours that it would turn red and gold for Gryffindor once she was resorted.

Headmaster Dippet had her remain up by the Professors as the students filed in. Ginny watched as a sea of unfamiliar faces took seats at the four tables. She swallowed as she wondered whose grandparents were here. Perhaps, even her own were around. It took much effort not to seek out Tom Riddle at the Slytherin table. Ginny knew she wasn’t ready to face him, so she focused on the train of little firsties marching in. They were to be Sorted first and then Dippet wanted to introduce Ginny. She knew it would be horribly embarrassing.

She didn’t pay much attention to the kids getting Sorted. Occasionally a surname would catch her attention, specifically the Lovegood and the MacMillan made her look up curiously, but she didn’t find Luna or Ernie sitting there. Only relatives who just weren’t the same. Ginny waited patiently for the last girl to get sorted and clapped half-heartedly as the tiny thing skipped over to join the Hufflepuffs.

“Today, we welcome a new student to our sixth year class,” Headmaster Dippet spoke in his grating, wheezy voice. He smiled out at the crowd and motioned to Ginny. “Ginevra Pyrites joins us in light of a tragedy. I hope you all treat her with kindness and decency and offer your assistance should she find herself lost in our large castle. Ginevra, kindly take a seat on the stool for your sorting.”

Refusing to look out at the crowd, Ginny sat down on the seat with as much confidence as she could muster and suddenly felt like she was eleven years old again. The Sorting Hat had instantly put her in Gryffindor before, so she expected much of the same this go around. She held her breath as Professor Dumbledore set the hat gently on her head.

_ “Curious, _ ” the hat spoke within the confines of Ginny’s skull. “ _ Very curious. I’ve never sorted a time traveler before.” _

_ “Put me in Gryffindor and get on with it, everyone’s staring,” _ Ginny thought back waspishly. She didn’t like this, she didn’t like it at all.

_ “Ah, I see that is where you went before. Are you certain that’s what you want? You have been given a mission that would be much better served in Slytherin.” _

_ “Slytherin?!” _ Ginny nearly screamed that aloud.  _ “No!” _

_ “Yes,” _ the hat said slowly and ponderously.  _ “You are much better suited for Gryffindor or even Hufflepuff, but the fate of the world rests in your hands, Ginevra Weasley. Very interesting, isn’t it? I am naught but a hat, but I see many things about those I place into their Houses. You will find camaraderie and true friendship in Slytherin; it comes naturally to you to befriend others. Oh yes, Slytherin suits your needs in many ways.” _

Before she could protest, the hat shouted the name of the House she detested aloud. Trying her best not to cringe when her tie turned silver and green, Ginny trudged slowly to the table where the first years were sitting. She was just about to ask for one to budge up and make room for her when a voice called out from further down.

“Pyrites! You should come join us down here!”

Slowly, Ginny turned to face the fabricated half-smile of Tom Riddle. He was standing up at his spot at the table, waving at her to join him. Forcing back a barrage of insults, Ginny walked slowly and timidly toward him, feeling her heart pound away in her chest. Tom Riddle watched her, continuing to smile that little smirk of his. She tried to return the smile, though she knew it was a grimace. 

Tom motioned for her to sit beside him, as another bloke had moved over to make room. Ginny obliged, not very enthusiastically taking a seat. Tom sat down once she did and inclined his head toward her, “You ought to sit with us sixth years, not the young ones.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” she replied through clenched teeth. Ginny forced herself to speak more politely to him, “Thank you for inviting me down here. Riddle, was it, yes?”

“It is,” Tom Riddle replied in that honey-sweet and seductive voice of his. It made Ginny’s skin crawl. She could see his perfect scrawl on white parchment --  **_You seem like such a sweet girl, Ginny. I think we are going to be the best of friends._ **

Tom reached out for the pitcher of ice water and poured Ginny a cup before filling his own. She was stunned very briefly by the display of chivalry and murmured her thanks. Before she could move, Tom was offering her a bread roll with that stupid, fake cheerful look again. Ginny took it and thanked him once more, then hurried to fill her plate with food before he could start acting like a gentleman again. 

“I suppose I should introduce you to a few of my _ friends _ ,” Tom told her after a couple minutes of eating in silence. The way he said the word friends was hard and stiff, like Tom Riddle didn’t enjoy using the word at all. He set his fork down and motioned to the burly boy with a mop of curly brown hair beside her, “This is John Mulciber.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Ginny forced herself to say. She remembered a Mulciber at the Department of Mysteries. She assumed it was this man’s son that she had battled. 

“The pleasure is mine,” Mulciber replied in a dopey sounding voice. He grinned briefly, showing off a missing tooth before giving her a sorrowful glance. “I was very sorry to hear about your family. My mum always said your mum was really nice.”

Ginny ducked her head, trying not to let anyone see her face. She wanted to sink into the floor and die right now. She was seated between two horrible people and it didn’t help that Ginny was stealing the life story of Guinevere Pyrites. She licked her lips and glanced at John Mulciber through her hair, “Thank you. It means a lot to hear that.”

Riddle spoke up again, nearly making Ginny jump, “Across from us is Ragnar Lestrange, he’s a seventh year, and that’s Abraxas Malfoy, and Lycurgus Yaxley. They are both in our year.”

Ginny’s heart pounded again. Abraxas Malfoy was Draco’s grandfather! Merlin, did they look similar, but Abraxas had a more athletic build than Draco. He also wasn’t sneering, as Ginny had seen both Lucius  _ and _ Draco do. Abraxas seemed a little clueless, but Ginny couldn’t deny he was handsome. Too bad he eventually would spawn a prick of a son. Yaxley was another familiar name. A Death Eater, of course. She wanted to shudder at the idea that she was surrounded by them. Instead, she forced herself to smile at all of them and pretended to be pleased to meet them.

She ate slowly and quietly, though occasionally the boys around her would ask her different questions. Abraxas Malfoy asked her about her upcoming classes and if she were looking forward to them (of course she was!), John Mulciber asked her if she had ever wanted to go Hogwarts (absolutely) and if she had suspected she would be in Slytherin (it was a possibility, as her father had been one), and Tom Riddle asked if she would like him to escort her to the Slytherin dormitory. Ginny hesitated, but Dumbledore’s suggestions lingered so she reluctantly agreed. She had picked at her plate enough, unable to eat much. Tom rose from the table and offered a pale, long-fingered hand to Ginny. She almost recoiled, but forced herself to take it and let him help her from the table. It reminded her of Dean and how he always wanted to help her through the portrait hole.

If Ginny were any other girl, and by that she meant a girl who didn’t know Tom Riddle ended up as a bald, red-eyed, mass murderer, she would have been instantly charmed by him. As he had proven in her first year with the diary incident, Riddle was a sweet-talker and knew how to play his cards. With Ginny pretending to be Guinevere Pyrites, he had decided the best hand to play with the only surviving daughter of an ancient Pureblood family was to be incredibly sympathetic and treat her delicately. She was shocked that he so willingly mentioned being an orphan as well as they left the Great Hall and offered an ear if Ginny wished to talk.

“I know a thing or two about losing parents,” Riddle told her solemnly, offering his arm for her to hold onto.

Ginny didn’t say much, but followed him through the halls as he pointed out random locations and classrooms to her. He was quite knowledgeable, even mentioning things about the school Ginny did not know. She wouldn’t doubt that Hermione knew those things. That thought made her heart hurt. Hermione had been killed right in front of Ginny. Even if the girl had survived, it wouldn’t have been pretty for her. Hermione was a Muggleborn. The Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort hated Muggleborns.

When they reached the dormitories, Riddle stopped in front of the stone wall with a serpent door knocker on it, “This is the entrance to your new Common Room. It’s technically in the dungeons, so our windows look out into the lake. Occasionally, the Giant Squid swims by.”

“Giant Squid?” Ginny tried her best to sound surprised. She had never been inside the Slytherin Common Room before, but once overheard Emma Dobbs complaining about how creepy it was in their first year. 

Riddle gave her another one of his peculiar, fake smiles, “You will get used to it. The password is  _ Snakeweed _ . That password will last until the New Year.” He turned to face the snake door knocker and said firmly, “ _ Snakeweed _ .”

The door opened and Riddle motioned for Ginny to go through first. She stepped inside and took a long, hard look at the Slytherin Common Room. The first thing she noticed was how  _ green _ it all was. The second was the giant serpent portrait above the fireplace. Ginny wanted to scowl at how similar it looked to Nagini. The chairs were green, with golden legs. The couches matched the chairs, but looked to be made of leather, with throw blankets in different shades of green folded neatly along the back. There were odd tapestries of angry looking men adorning the far wall, near the window that peered into the lake. It seemed dim with the strange lighting, not as bright and cheery at Gryffindor had been. 

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Riddle spoke casually from beside her. “Slytherin is a great House to be a part of, Pyrites. Your ancestors would be proud.”

She nodded her head slowly, staring at the two grand staircases that went up and up. The left side had a placard that said: LADIES DORMITORIES, the right said: GENTLEMEN’S DORMITORIES. Turning to face Riddle, Ginny offered him a shy smile, “I suppose I go that way.” Ginny pointed to the staircase to the left.

“Indeed you do,” Riddle confirmed and took a step toward the gentlemen’s dormitories. He paused and looked back at Ginny, “I would walk you to class tomorrow, if you will have me. It would not look good for a member of my house to get lost or end up tardy for class.”

Ginny blanched, but nodded slowly, “That would be lovely. But, I’m afraid I don’t have my schedule just yet.”

“We receive them in the morning, at breakfast. Would you meet me in the Common Room at seven-thirty?” Riddle asked her, ever-so politely. 

Merlin, he was putting the works on her. Ginny could not figure out why he was bothering. What could he want from the Pyrites family? Feigning ignorance, she nodded again, “I will meet you. Thank you for being so welcoming.”

“My pleasure,” he glanced over at the entrance. They could hear commotion behind it, which meant others would enter in just a moment. “If you feel comfortable at some point, I would enjoy the chance to speak with you about your family history. I find myself quite fascinated with all of the old families.” Riddle had the audacity to appear bashful about being a history-enthusiast, but Ginny knew better. He wanted  _ something _ from her; a piece of knowledge maybe or just to have her under his thumb. She would find out what soon enough.

“Oh,” Ginny said slowly, trying to find a way to be non-committal about it without being rude. Riddle had been awfully polite after all. The students were beginning to flood the Common Room so she quickly called out, “I will, goodnight Riddle.” Ginny turned and ran up the stairs, finding the door to the sixth year girls room.

Inside, there were seven beds set up around the room; three on each wall and one on the far side across from the door, sticking out toward the middle. Ginny raised an eyebrow at that. In 1998, there were only five beds set up in her dormitory, but Ginny’s year only filled four of them. The fifth became the dirty laundry pile. The trunks at the foot of each bed told her that yes, she would actually have six roommates. Inwardly, she groaned. Could she survive living with six Slytherin girls?

As if on cue, a gaggle of girls entered the room, freezing when they saw Ginny standing in the center. One of them, a beautiful blonde girl with dainty features stepped forward. She smiled sweetly and asked, “Ginevra, is that right? My name’s Ornella Greengrass. You may call me Nella.”

“Hi, Nella,” Ginny replied dumbly. She stepped toward her own trunk and sat down on the bed behind it, not quite meeting anyone’s gaze. “Yes, I’m Ginevra, but you can call me Ginny, if you would like.”

Nella beamed in warm welcome, scurried over to her own bed and flopped down very unladylike. She kicked off her shoes and crossed her legs into a pretzel, “Nice to meet you, Ginny. Welcome to Slytherin House. I hope you like it here as much as I do.”

“I am sure I will,” Ginny lied flawlessly.

“I see they rearranged the beds to make room for Ginny,” another girl piped up from the front of the room, looking around the room. “The fifth years have seven girls, so I bet they just copied their layout.”

“Most likely! I guess I will go ahead and do the introductions since you lot aren’t,” Nella rolled her eyes at the others who were now wandering to their own beds. She pointed at the girl whose bed was closest to the exit, “That’s Elizabeth Quincey. Say hi to our new roomie, Lizzie.”

Elizabeth, squat, pale, and frowning, waved halfheartedly before digging around in her trunk. Ginny noted mentally that Elizabeth Quincy was not friendly or welcoming. Typical Slytherin, as she had grown accustomed to in 1998.

“Then there’s me,” Nella continued, pointing her thumb to herself and then motioned to the next bed that was being taken over by the tall, skinny black girl with very curly hair that was being somewhat held back by a thick red headband. “Roslyn Rackharrow.” The bed sticking out from the far wall belonged to a long-nosed girl with braided black hair and crooked teeth. She was beaming at Ginny as Nella introduced her, “That’s Mina Burke. It’s short for Wilhelmina, but we all abhor that name. It’s so... old-fashioned, don’t you think?”

Ginny didn’t think any of them had room to talk, including herself. Ginevra was an old name as well, but Molly had fallen in love with it. She nodded and waved to the friendly looking Mina Burke.

The bed to the right of Ginny belonged to Hilde Thorne, a shy looking girl with heavily tanned skin and short-cropped dark hair. Hilde was quick to tell Ginny that her mother’s family was Pureblooded and Egyptian, while her father was English. Ginny had an inkling that Hilde might not have been as pure of blood as she claimed. The bed to Ginny’s left, the last one in the room, belonged to Cecilia Harkiss, another unfriendly looking individual with her skirt rolled up an inch or so above her knees. She had her own blonde hair delicately curled and wore thin-rimmed glasses. She offered Ginny a curt greeting before rummaging her for nightgown.

Ginny changed out of her clothing as well, listening to Nella and Mina prattle on loudly about their summers. Nella had visited family in Wales, while Mina’s father took her shopping in wizarding France. At one point, Ginny stopped listening as she finished changing into the off-white nightgown she had purchased in Diagon Alley. It was so  _ long _ , Ginny felt like she would get wrapped up in it and die of strangulation. She was used to sleeping in shorts and a tank top. Nightgowns had stopped being a thing when she was about twelve. Grumbling, she got in bed, bid goodnight to the other girls, and pulled the emerald green curtains shut around her bed. 

The quilt was very soft, Ginny noted. The squares alternated between green and silver, with little black snakes embroidered into the center of the silver squares. Her eyes rolled at that, but she snuggled into it anyway. This bed was much more comfortable than the infirmary, but it wasn’t Gryffindor. Ginny was still peeved at the hat for putting her in Slytherin. Maybe the dumb hat had a point, it would be easier to get close to Riddle in Slytherin. But, to be frank, Ginny wasn’t sure if she  _ wanted _ to be close to the future Lord Voldemort. He still irked her, weirded her out, and she didn’t want to be friendly with him. Besides, he was brewing some sort of plan for her already and Ginny didn’t know what exactly it was. She groaned at the idea of meeting him for breakfast in the morning and him walking her to class afterward. Was there something spectacular about the Pyrites family that Ginny had missed? Something that would interest Voldemort? Ginny thought she might run the idea past Dumbledore when she could find a moment of his time where they could speak in private. It would be harder to do that now that school had begun though.

Ginny closed her eyes and wished she could talk to her mum. A sickening feeling took refuge in the pit of her stomach. She had  _ met _ Rodolphus Lestrange’s father. Rodolphus killed Molly Weasley. She wanted to vomit. How many of her current roommates were mothers to killers? Burke was a Voldemort-supporting surname, Ginny knew that much. And Harkiss was as well. Greengrass wasn’t so bad, Ginny actually had been on civil terms with both Daphne and Astoria Greengrass during her last year at school. Daphne had been told by Alecto Carrow to torture Ginny once afternoon when Ginny defended Colin Creevey. Colin and his younger brother, Dennis, stupidly returned to school even though they were both Muggleborns. Colin had been beaten, tortured, and ridiculed from the first day of school that year. Ginny did not like seeing her friend treated that way and threatened to punch Alecto in her ugly face. The nasty old witch proceeded to grab Daphne Greengrass by the wrist as she walked by and told the girl to punish Ginny thoroughly. With a stony expression, Daphne brought Ginny into a classroom and immediately hissed at her to start screaming. Ginny recalled how she’d stared at the girl blankly, but Daphne upturned a desk to cause a racket. Ginny understood and began to scream while Daphne made other noises. Before they left the room, Daphne whispered into Ginny’s ear, “ _ Look shaken and let any of your little friends know that neither me or Astoria will hurt them. Tracey’s safe too. _ ” 

It had been an unspoken agreement between her and Daphne. Whenever Ginny and her crew got into trouble, Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, as well as Tracey Davis, would often nominate themselves to punish them. They would pretend to be unleashing their worst. Astoria let it slip one day while she was pretending to be punishing Luna that her family didn’t buy into the blood elitism and that Tracey’s father was a Muggleborn, though very few people knew that. 

‘ _ Tracey would probably have been killed the moment anyone found out about her father,’ _ Ginny thought to herself, thinking sadly about the chubby brunette that so timidly pleaded for Ginny and Neville to run when Snape came looking for them after the sword-stealing incident. Maybe not all Slytherins were bad, but she couldn’t take her chances. Not in this time, not with Tom Riddle running the show. She took a deep breath, wishing she could be in Gryffindor again. Her grandparents might be there, maybe Harry’s were, or Neville's, or even Professor Lupin’s father. She longed for familiar, safe surnames to mingle with, again cursing the hat for doing this to her. 

The other girls were chatting away quietly, making sure to be mindful of the supposedly sleeping Ginny. A polite notion, Ginny noted, still feeling torn about everything she had experienced and the things that she remembered. Maybe, she could find a way to change some of her roommates' perceptions of Muggleborns and blood traitors. That might be easier than changing Tom Riddle. It might have been less of a bloodbath if less prejudiced Purebloods existed. But, how would Ginny do that? The weight of the world felt heavy on her chest and again, Ginny cursed Minerva McGonagall for putting this expedition in her hands. There would only be one shot to get this right, otherwise Ginny would have to watch everything crumble once again.


	5. Chapter Four

The enchanted alarm clock on Ginny Weasley’s nightstand went off at seven o’clock sharp the next morning. Panicked, Ginny attempted to kick off the blankets and had to detangle her legs from the wretched nightgown first. Quickly silencing the noise so as to not disturb her new roommates, Ginny quietly began to dress in her school uniform again, noting that Cecilia Harkiss was stirring as well.

Harkiss nodded curtly at Ginny before putting on her glasses and starting a round of stretches beside her bed. Ginny slipped on a crisp white blouse and began to tuck it into her skirt. Then came the tie, the button-up vest, and her black school robes that now had the deep green of Slytherin sewn onto the inside. She tiptoed to the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair, wondering if she should ponytail the thick red locks for the day. Deciding against it, Ginny left her hair as it was; straight and boring, and returned to her bed to find her shoes. Harkiss was rolling up her skirt.

“Why do you do that?” Ginny found herself whispering to the girl, watching as Harkiss rolled the article of clothing up to a spot just above her knees.

Smirking, Harkiss retorted back sharply, “I’m  _ tall _ , Pyrites. Tall women must show off their legs. Not too much of course, I’m not a harlot or anything.”

“Oh,” Ginny said ponderously. Girls in her year had done the same thing, but the times were different. It seemed out of place here in the 1940s, almost scandalous. Though, Ginny was pretty sure Cecilia Harkiss was one to enjoy a good scandal. The towering girl had a peculiar look about her that screamed  _ drama queen _ . Ginny pulled her grey flats out from under the bed and slipped her feet into them and bent down to pull up her socks. When she righted herself, Harkiss was standing in front of her with an inquisitive look on her face. Ginny, startled, took a step back from the girl.

“You are quite short,” Harkiss declared under her breath, reaching out to move Ginny’s hair over her shoulders. “And far too many freckles, Merlin, you are almost as bad as that Weasley boy.”

Ginny’s heart skipped a beat. That was probably her Granddad! She couldn’t wait to see him, even from a distance. She swallowed and tilted her head at Cecilia, “One of my sisters had more freckles than I do. All over her back and arms too. I’ve just got them on my face,” She forced a soft laugh. She was actually referring to her brother Ron. 

Harkiss pursed her lips and reached out to undo the first two buttons of Ginny’s white shirt, “You’ve got your hair and your chest going for you, Pyrites. Always wear your hair down or braided, you want the boys to see that colour. It’s very vibrant. Also, if you leave these two buttons undone, it shows just enough to be alluring, but not whorish.”

Certainly, this might have been something Ginny would have considered doing in the 1990s. One of her roommates in Gryffindor House, Anna Mirfield, was well-known for having unbuttoned shirts and once got yelled at by McGonagall to cover herself up. Ginny had never felt the need to go  _ that _ far and she surely did not want that sort of attention now in 1943. She ducked her head in an effort to look shy, rather than miffed with Cecilia Harkiss. 

“I’m... not sure I want to do that,” Ginny mumbled, reaching up to button her shirt back up.

“At least leave the one undone, Pyrites. You want a husband one day, don’t you?” Harkiss snapped and swatted Ginny’s hand away. “With your inheritance and bloodline, plenty of gentlemen will be looking your way. You need to catch one early, before they all end up engaged. The good Pureblood boys always get taken early. Many of them are already snatched up.”

“Engaged while in school?” Ginny could not believe her ears. Merlin, how the times had changed. Sixth years in the 1990s were not thinking about engagements, they were busy trying to get boyfriends to snog them in empty corridors at most! “Isn’t that a bit young?”

Laughing, Cecilia shook her head, “Sweet Merlin, no. Most of the seventh years are already betrothed. Lucretia Black and her fiance have been engaged since they were in fourth year. One of Nella’s twin brothers is engaged as of this summer. He’s a seventh year in Ravenclaw and his intended is a fifth year Gryffindor. They will not be wed until she finishes school, of course.”

“Oh dear,” Ginny said weakly, unable to process this information. She did  _ not _ want a barrage of boys trying to wed her. Even if she was stuck here for the rest of her life, it didn’t sound appealing in the slightest. There were so many things wrong with that picture, like what if she and her fiance became different people after graduation? Ginny liked the idea of dating around and getting to know people before settling, though, she had always hoped her and Harry would have had more time together. At least they could have had a better shot at a relationship if Voldemort had been defeated.

“Jeepers, Pyrites,” Cecilia quipped in a disparaging tone. “You have so much to learn. Merlin only knows why your family remained so sheltered! I wonder what your father was thinking he would do with the lot of you girls. My mother said your eldest sister must have been beyond marriageable age and no one even tried to get a husband for her!” Harkiss paused and then made a face, “Oh, sorry, Pyrites. It’s not nice to speak ill of the dead. My apologies, but you ought to think about _ your _ future, you know? Since your parents didn’t at all. If you hang around me, I’ll show you the right way.”

Glowering, Ginny straightened her robes and went to grab her wand off the nightstand. She bent down to grab her book bag and slung it over her shoulder, wincing at the weight of it. With quick movement, she cast the featherweight charm on it and pushed past Cecilia Harkiss, muttering under her breath, “Evil cow, what does she know about relationships? She clearly hasn’t got one if she’s rolling up her skirt like that.” Ginny snickered to herself and headed down to the common room to meet Tom Riddle. After her conversation with Harkiss, Ginny was even less than enthused to go to breakfast with the eventual Dark Lord.

Tom Riddle was waiting for her downstairs in the common room, sitting stiffly in one of the green chairs with a book on his lap. He looked sharp, though Ginny recognized the telltale signs of second-hand robes. No matter the state of his clothes, Tom Riddle did not have a single hair out of place on his head. He was also wearing a gold ring with a black stone on the ring finger of his left hand. With the conversation with Cecilia Harkiss fresh on her mind, Ginny blanched. Was Tom Riddle engaged to someone? Her heart went out to whoever the poor soul might have been. 

Riddle looked up just as Ginny made it to the landing. He offered one of his phony smiles and quickly tucked his book into his worn school bag. Rising to his feet, he crossed the room in a few short strides to greet her, “Morning, Pyrites. I hope your first night in Slytherin house was pleasant.”

“Oh, it was fine,” Ginny mumbled, not wanting to meet his eyes. She was still pretty perturbed with how her morning was going already.

The future Dark Lord’s face fell slightly, taking on a forced look of concern, “Has something untoward happened? You seem a bit distressed.”

Ginny shook her head, “I had an unpleasant conversation with one of my new roommates, that’s all. She seems to think I ought to be looking for a husband right away.” She unwillingly laughed before adding venomously, “I’m new and utterly alone. That is the farthest thing from my mind right now.”

“Ah, of course, it must be Harkiss,” Riddle replied knowingly, a slightly sinister look in his eyes glimmered for the briefest of moments. “A secret between you and I, Pyrites. She is desperate and has tried her luck on just about every bloke in our year. She comes from a less than stellar branch of the Harkiss family and isn’t due to inherit much of anything since her father wed someone of an inappropriate blood status.”

Ginny thought that made a lot of sense to explain the behaviour. It wasn’t a good thing, as Ginny firmly believed blood status wasn’t important. She almost felt bad for Harkiss, but the girl’s foul personality kept Ginny from feeling too sympathetic for her. She looked up at the towering form of Tom Riddle, suppressed a shudder, and changed the subject, “Should we be heading to breakfast?”

“Yes, we should,” Riddle gave her that ominous little smirk again before offering her his arm. 

She was loath to take it, but did so gingerly and wanted to gag. Lord-fucking-Voldemort was playing the role of perfect gentleman and it made Ginny want to scream. He was capable of murder and casting the Unforgivables! Her newly acquired memories kept playing in her head; Riddle’s impeccable handwriting appearing in a diary and Ginny eagerly writing back all of her secrets and deepest thoughts. ‘ _ He’s playing you, he’s playing you, he’s playing you,’ _ echoed over and over in her head. She grit her teeth and tried to listen to Riddle as he told her a little bit more about the school and the classes she might be taking. Ginny did her best to be attentive and curious, but it was hard when her deepest instincts told her to run far, far away.

Breakfast first thing in the morning was a quiet affair, Ginny noticed as the two walked into the Great Hall together. Only a handful of students sat at each table and all of them were pouring over their schedules while eating. A pair of girls at the Hufflepuff table spotted Ginny and Riddle and began whispering. One of them even pointed and Ginny wanted to tell them both to bugger off. 

As a perfect gentleman should, Riddle allowed Ginny to sit down first before planting himself next to her. He waved at Professor Slughorn, smiling falsely as the large man tottered down from the teacher’s table and waddled his way toward them. Ginny eyed the schedules in the man’s hand and then grabbed a biscuit, so she couldn’t talk if Slughorn spoke to her.

“Good morning Mr. Riddle! Good morning, Miss Pyrites!” Slughorn took off his cap and bowed to them both. “I must say, my boy, I am absolutely thrilled you are taking the initiative and helping dear Miss Pyrites out on her first day of classes. Splendidly done, my boy, splendidly done.”

“It’s not a problem, sir,” Riddle replied back innocently. “She is new and in my house, of course I must take her under my wing.”

Ginny shoved the biscuit further into her mouth, trying to block out the memory of his neat handwriting telling eleven-year old Ginny that he would take care of her. ‘ _ My skeleton won’t be lying in a Chamber forever this time either, _ ’ Ginny thought to herself as she glanced at Riddle out of the corner of her eye.  _ ‘I remember you, Tom Riddle and I’m much wiser now than I was at eleven.’ _

Slughorn handed both of the schedules to Riddle and asked him to go over it with Ginny, smiling at her as if she were a helpless little child. Again, the Slytherin Head of House mentioned his little club and promised to send them both invitations when he arranged the first meeting. Slug Club. Ginny wanted to groan. Not that again. 

Riddle pushed aside his still-empty plate and lay both of their schedules down on the table side-by-side. His eyes flickered between the two and he nodded in satisfaction, “It appears you and I will be sharing a few classes together.”

“Mmm?” Ginny grunted through a mouthful of another biscuit. She chewed slowly and leaned over just slightly to look at their schedules. Riddle was right, unfortunately. They both had Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and History of Magic together. While Ginny was also taking Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, Riddle would be in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. She resisted the urge to slam her head into the thick wood of the table. Perhaps, it was a good thing they shared classes together. She needed to get close enough to know what he was plotting and planning. She needed to stop him.

“We both have Potions with Professor Slughorn first thing this morning, after breakfast is over, and Charms after that. It will be the same on Friday as well,” Riddle explained. “You have Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon, during my free time. I can take you down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where that class is generally held. You have the rest of the day free after that class, while I will be in Ancient Runes. Our schedules are similar tomorrow as well, with Transfiguration and Defense in the morning for the both of us and History of Magic in the afternoon. I suppose we'll be seeing a lot of each other, Pyrites.”

“I suppose so,” Ginny forced herself to say in a neutral tone. “It will be nice to have a friendly face in so many of my classes,” she added, trying not to wince at how stupid she sounded. Ginny busied herself with spooning some scrambled eggs onto her plate.

A few other Slytherins joined them, greeting both Ginny and Riddle politely. They ate in silence and Ginny was grateful for it. She had a lot to think about, like her plan to stop Tom Riddle from domination. ‘ _ Why did McGonagall do this to me? _ ’ Ginny wondered for the millionth time since her memory returned. She had not even the slightest inkling on how to save her future.

“Pyrites, may I ask you a question?” Riddle’s voice distracted Ginny from her plotting. He was staring at her with an apprehensive gaze. His hands were folded on the table and his body turned ever so slightly toward her.

“Of course,” Ginny replied cautiously. 

“Is it true that your family was once a great friend of Rowena Ravenclaw?” Riddle inquired curiously. He glanced down at the table in a calculated act of embarrassment. “I am sorry for prying. I really do love history, especially the founders.”

Ginny set down her fork, trying to formulate a good response. Of course he was interested in the founders! One of the last things Hermione had said to her was that Lord Voldemort used relics of the Founders as Horcruxes. It would make sense if Tom Riddle was thinking the Pyrites family could have something of Ravenclaw’s. She considered her options. Stringing him along to think she had inherited some great object that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw would keep him interested in her. But, it would also make her a target. He was not above killing for what he desired, even at sixteen. At the same time, if she blew him off now, it would be harder for her to maintain a closeness with him. Ginny still needed to figure out how on earth she would correct the future. 

“My father always said so,” Ginny responded in a small voice, peering down at her plate instead of meeting Riddle’s penetrating stare. “He told us the earliest Pyrites were in Ravenclaw, but eventually, we started branching out into other Houses too.”

“Which is very riveting!” Tom Riddle replied enthusiastically. “Most Pureblood families all end up in the same House together, with a few odd men out, of course. Take the Malfoys for example, they’ve been Slytherins since practically the beginning. The Black family, the Yaxleys, MacMillans, Weasleys, and several others are all the same, remaining in the same House as their ancestors. I have heard that the Pyrites family is the most unpredictable of the old names, but never met one to ask about it, of course.”

Ginny merely nodded, “That’s what father said too. I... had no idea what House I would end up in, knowing that. Father was a Slytherin, but mother was a Ravenclaw. I knew that didn’t really matter though as my family had always been all over the place.” Ginny gloated internally at how well she was using the knowledge Dumbledore had provided her. 

“Well, the hat chose well, if I may say so,” Riddle told her fondly. “Slytherin is an excellent choice for a lovely witch such as yourself.” He played the part of a sheepish teenage boy impeccably. 

If Ginny had been anyone else, she would have melted into a puddle. She knew better though and was more than pleased her memories returned before she acted a fool. Ginny stared at Tom Riddle, taking in the carefully perfected appearance and poise, “You are so kind, Riddle.” It hurt to compliment him.

On their way out of the Great Hall, Riddle and Ginny bumped into John Mulciber, who offered Ginny a wide, shit-eating grin that showed off his missing front tooth. He couldn’t stop staring at her in a way Ginny recognized and did not like, nor want, from someone like him.

“Cheers, Pyrites. Cheers, Riddle,” he yawned and continued to stare shyly at Ginny. “What class you two got first?”

“Potions,” Riddle answered for the both of them. “I’m showing her the way to Professor Slughorn’s classroom. You ought to eat quickly, in case you have a morning class, Mulciber.” He didn’t seem impressed by the idea of one of his acquaintances running tardy for class.

“Aye,” Mulciber agreed reluctantly and moved to walk around the duo. He paused mid-step and flushed pink, “Good luck on your first day, Pyrites.” Mulciber hurried off to eat.

Ginny felt her skin crawl. She recognized the signs of a boy crushing on her. ‘ _ You need to catch one early,’ _ Harkiss’s advice rang in her ears. Ginny scowled. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be John Mulciber, that was for sure. His future relative had fired a deadly hex at Luna Lovegood in the Ministry of Magic. Thankfully it had missed. Ginny knew it was wrong to judge the father for the sins of the son. Maybe this Mulciber wasn’t a mindless minion who had no qualms with trying to kill children. Grumbling to herself, Ginny knew she needed to try and be less judgmental. She didn’t want to be like the stereotypical Slytherin, after all.

  
  


Professor Slughorn’s booming voice greeted them as Riddle allowed Ginny to enter the classroom first. They were one of the first few students to show up. Ginny looked around at the double-seater desks nervously. She used to sit with Luna in Potions, when Hogwarts had been taken over by Death Eaters. Before that, she sat with Demelza Robins, who was absolutely hopeless. Ginny suspected Riddle would invite her to sit with him.

As if on cue, Riddle motioned to a table on the far side of the room, but still in the front row, “Care to join me at my favourite table?”

Dejected, she nodded and followed Riddle and began to rifle through her bag for parchment and quill. Professor Almasy told her prior to the start of the school year that the first day of classes was just an introductory class where the syllabus and expectations for the year were discussed. 

Ginny fiddled with the cap on her ink, nearly dropping it when Riddle leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I like this spot because we’re out of Slughorn’s line of sight most of the time. He pays a lot of attention to those in the back rows. I can still take notes and answer questions without getting called upon constantly.”

“Oh, brilliant thinking,” Ginny murmured, watching the students trickle in. Ornella Greengrass came in with Roslyn Rackharrow at her side. The girls took the desk beside Ginny and Riddle, greeting them both cheerfully.

“Hi Ginny, morning Riddle,” Ornella chirped with an award-winning smile. She had curled the ends of her long blonde hair and had a pale green headband with a large floppy bow keeping the hair away from her face. Ginny noticed the expensive-looking pearl necklace around her neck and matching earrings. Roslyn looked just as impeccable with her mane of curly brown hair held back with a thin, glittery, gold headband and was wearing a thick silver ring on her pinky finger. 

“Hi,” Ginny replied back, wistfully wishing she could be sitting with one of them instead of Riddle. 

“You must have gotten up quite early,” Roslyn piped up, leaning forward to see around her blonde friend. “Nella and I were going to invite you to breakfast with us, but I see Riddle beat us to the punch.”

Riddle gave a short, cold laugh, “I asked Miss Pyrites last night. I thought it prudent she be shown around by a responsible Prefect.”

Roslyn didn’t seem to miss the wisecrack about responsibility. As Ginny had come to suspect, Roslyn Rackharrow was the Slytherin Prefect for sixth year and the shiny pin glimmered neatly on her vest. Her dark eyes narrowed, showing off the delicate line of eyeliner she had placed on her eyelids, “You think you’re funny, don’t you Riddle?”

Playing coy, he scoffed at her, “Funny? No, no, Rackharrow. I am not the Prefect who was caught out after hours by the Head Boy last year.” Riddle flashed her a sardonic smirk.

The tension between Riddle and Rackharrow was thick, quite clear that neither of them were fond of one another. Roslyn stuck her nose in the air and muttered something under her breath to Ornella, while Riddle appeared satisfied at the results of their little tiff. Nella gave Ginny a knowing look and rolled her eyes and mouthed,  _ “I’ll tell you later.” _

Slughorn chose that moment to get everyone’s attention, talking about how wonderful and unsurprising it was to see that this lot had passed their O.W.L’s for his class. His glance hovered on Ginny for a moment, making her feel incredibly uncomfortable. She had not taken any exams or tests for her classes, Dumbledore just sort of squeezed her in. Slughorn probably expected her to be an abomination. She stared down at her parchment, ready to take notes on what this year would be like.

It was a long hour-and-a-half of Slughorn droning on about the more in-depth art of Potioneering. Ginny noted that they would be going over Golpalott’s Third Law, Felix Felicis and the legality of such potions, Amortentia, Draught of Living Death, and a few other odds and ends. Ginny remembered studying some of those already during her time and hoped she could recall enough to get by without much trouble. 

Her eyes slid over to Riddle’s side of the desk. It irked her to see the same, neat handwriting that had once written to her through the Horcrux diary. Ginny forced herself to stare straight ahead as Slughorn went on and on. When class finally came to an end, Ginny was beyond ecstatic to leave. She waved to Nella and Roslyn, who scurried out before another bout of bickering could occur between the two Prefects. Riddle patiently and courteously waited for Ginny to put her things away into her leather bookbag. 

“Charms class is located on the third floor, so we will have to move a bit quickly. Would you mind if we took a shortcut?” Riddle asked her, taking her elbow gently and escorting her out of the room. He paused to bid a good day to Professor Slughorn, who beamed cheerily at the two of them.

“I don’t mind at all,” Ginny said, refraining from cracking a grin. She knew exactly what shortcut Riddle was hinting at. Fred and George had shown her a good way to get from the dungeons where Potions class was always held to the fourth floor, right by the stairs leading down to the third. She said nothing as her and Riddle walked with linked arms toward a portrait a few paces down from the Potions classroom of a lanky witch wearing a navy blue toga and carrying a spear. Next to her was a couple yards of thick, gold tapestry hanging on what looked like a solid wall. Riddle led her through the fake wall and the two climbed the narrow steps up to the fourth floor. As Ginny had already known, they walked through another fake wall and arrived at the staircase leading down toward the third floor.

“See, it’s much quicker this way. Less crowded. I discovered it accidentally in my third year,” Riddle explained to her, sounding rather proud of himself. “I am surprised how few people actually know of it. The Charms classroom is right over here. We are on time now.”

“That’s great,” Ginny said breathlessly, feeling a flood of different feelings. She used to race up those narrow stairs with her brothers, trailing behind them as their long legs allowed them the ease of skipping several stairs. She missed Fred and George. She missed everyone. Glaring at Riddle’s back, she was grateful to have a desk to herself this time. It was his fault everyone Ginny loved was gone or in danger and it was entirely his fault she was stuck in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the continued comments and likes! Much appreciated!
> 
> A little side note -- this story *is* complete and I will post it all over the upcoming weeks!  
> How did this idea come about? Well, I had a dream sometime in 2015 about various scenes that I put into this story and time traveling Ginny. I'm not even a Ginny/Tom shipper, really (though I admit, I am digging it a bit now!) so this was very out of the ordinary for me. I could not shake the scenes from my dream and needed to write them down. 
> 
> It may have taken me five years, but I did finish and I look forward to sharing this endeavor with you all.


	6. Chapter Five

The first month of school went by quite quickly, much to Ginny’s surprise. She found herself incredibly busy with sixth year homework and pretending to learn about Hogwarts over the last few weeks. Riddle toned down the chivalry considerably, but still offered to share a desk with her in Potions on Wednesday and Friday mornings, even when she arrived with Nella and Ros in the mornings. Ginny usually went to breakfast with them instead, but forced herself to greet Riddle merrily whenever she saw him. 

After Potions class ended, he always waited for her and escorted her up the secret staircase for a swift arrival to Charms. It was the same on Mondays, when Riddle had his Arithmancy class in the mornings (whereas on Fridays it was held in the afternoon), he would return to the Slytherin Common Room to fetch Ginny, Abraxas Malfoy, and John Mulciber for Defense Against the Dark Arts. On Tuesday and Thursday mornings, a large group of Slytherin sixth years walked to breakfast and then to Transfiguration together. This group was made up of both Riddle and Ginny, the rest of her roommates except for Elizabeth Quincy, and all but two of the Slytherin boys in her year.

Back in her original timeline, Ginny most often walked to class by herself, though occasionally with one or two other Gryffindors. She was intrigued by the close-knit group the Slytherins seemed to keep. She noted none of the other Houses did anything like it. It felt very odd to constantly be a part of such a crowd. 

The first day of October arrived with a bit of a chill in the air outside, as well as within the castle. Nella Greengrass gave Ginny one of her many scarves to wear, noticing that the time traveler did not have one of her own. Fondly and cheerfully, Nella tucked the emerald green silk around Ginny’s neck and began to braid her red hair into an ornate French plait.

It was Friday and the weekend’s approach was more than welcome, though Ginny knew she had a lot of homework to work on. She chatted happily with Nella and Ros, who Ginny decided were good people. Neither of them dared to use the word  _ Mudblood _ and were polite and friendly to just about everyone, though preferred the company of their fellow Slytherins. Ginny thought she fit in well enough with those two. Occasionally, Mina Burke tagged along with them too, but she was usually extremely preoccupied with her seventh year beau, Percival Nott. Ros mentioned under her breath one evening that Mina and her had been childhood friends, though did not talk as much these days. Ginny could sense the bitterness there.

She also learned that neither Nella nor Ros were betrothed to anyone. That made Ginny feel much better. Nella seemed to be under the impression that she would be by the end of the year and Ros found the premise completely barbaric and hoped her parents would conveniently forget to shop around for her. Roslyn was an only child though, so her hope to be forgotten was extremely unlikely. Nella had two older brothers who reminded Ginny of Fred and George. Linwood was a Ravenclaw and Sherwood was in Slytherin. They were identical, but the different coloured ties and robes helped tell them apart. Both of the boys were very silly and liked to tease their little sister. Nella often pretended to be bothered by their protective nature, but it was clear that she secretly adored it. 

It was that very October morning when Ginny learned about what some of the Slytherins did on the weekends. It was Nella who informed her, whispering in a low voice as the trio sauntered toward the Great Hall for breakfast before they all went to Potions.

“Ginny, what have you been doing the last few Saturday evenings?” Nella muttered as they turned a corner, playing with a strand of blonde hair. 

Ginny had noticed some of the Slytherins were mysteriously gone from the Common Room or dormitories on Saturday nights, including Nella, Ros, Mina, and Riddle. But, Ginny had been using that time to study and figure out her plans for saving the world. So far, all she could think of to do was change as many minds as possible about blood elitism. It seemed impossible, but Ginny, so far, was well-received in Slytherin and she needed to use that to her advantage. Though it hurt her to do so on some occasions, Ginny remained polite and friendly to everyone in her new House, no matter what she knew about their family in the future. Dealing with Riddle was going to be the most difficult part of all, but Ginny was doing her best to remain in his good graces. He didn’t treat her any differently than the other people he considered acquaintances and she knew it was an act, but Ginny was determined to earn his trust somehow. It made her snort with laughter, but she thought it might be a good idea to attempt to become his first,  _ real _ friend.  _ ‘Fat chance,’ _ Ginny thought with another laugh.

“Oh, you know,” Ginny responded with a slight shrug. “Homework, talking to people in the Common Room, things like that?”

Nella and Ros shared a look briefly. Sighing, Nella took Ginny’s elbow and pulled her aside before they entered the Great Hall. Ros lingered with them, casting a glance over her shoulder, looking out for any unwanted figures who could overhear them.

“You should come with us tomorrow night,” Nella told her with eyebrows raised and a smirk on her pink-painted lips. “We don’t invite just everyone, but you have been deemed acceptable. You seem pretty likeable amongst the Slytherins.”

“Thank you,” Ginny replied slowly, unsure what exactly Nella was talking about. Was there some secret society within Slytherin? She shifted her book bag a bit before continuing, “What is it?”

“It's a get together,” Ros piped up, also smirking. “Just a few of us from some of the  _ older families _ , you know.”

Nella nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, it is very fun. It's been a secret amongst Slytherins for ages and ages. Generally, one's parents will tell them about it, that's how we all know. But, we sometimes do invites too!”

Ginny tried to process the information. She didn’t like how it sounded and her impression of the two of them fell just a little bit. For the old families? Clearly, that meant the Purebloods. She couldn’t imagine what they actually did in this little group. Ginny pictured a ring of Purebloods discussing their bloodlines and counting how many ways they were all related. It seemed prudent to be non-committal while digging for more information, “Who else is going?”

“Us,” Nella giggled and glanced over her shoulder at a pair of Hufflepuffs who were looking in their direction. She waited for them to enter the hall before continuing, “Mina, Sherwood, Malfoy, Mulciber, the Black family, Yaxley, Lestrange, Riddle, Urquhart, the Orpington sisters, and a bunch of others.”

“Riddle’s going?” she asked curiously. He wasn't from an old family though, as far as Ginny could remember. Hermione once mentioned something about him having a Muggle father. 

Both of the other girls tittered helplessly and gave Ginny sympathetic glances. Nella touched Ginny’s arm, “Of course he is. He was invited, as we are inviting you! Come on, Ginny, you should come. It's really rather fun. We talk and play little games and sometimes Walburga or Lucretia Black sneak in nice wines! It's a good way to get to know people. I know it sounds a bit pretentious, but it's tradition. Not every Slytherin can know about it.”

“It has a special entrance with a password and everything. It was built by one of Salazar Slytherin's children and the legend says that he even approved of it! Only those who have been sorted into Slytherin House and are invited or told by their parents can get in. I'm not sure how it works, but I know Cecilia tried to get in, she somehow found out, but the entrance wouldn't budge for her,” Roslyn added with a slightly devious look on her as she mentioned Cecilia Harkiss.

“I'll come,” Ginny resigned herself to being dragged along, still hesitant about it. She had not heard of anything like this in her time, but to be fair, Ginny never paid much attention to what the Slytherins did anyway. If the get together turned into a Mudblood-bashing fest, Ginny would leave and that would be that. Fake life or not, Ginny wouldn't stoop that low.

Both Ros and Nella squealed with delight and continued to whisper excitedly about how much Ginny would enjoy herself as they entered the Great Hall. With a forced smile pasted on her face, Ginny feigned interest and tried not to show how much she wasn’t looking forward to the event.

  
  


After Charms ended, Riddle caught up with Ginny as she was leaving the classroom. His sudden appearance at her side startled her, making her jump away from him. “Sorry Riddle, you scared me. My head was lost in the clouds,” Ginny told him, putting a hand over her thumping heart. 

“My apologies,” Tom Riddle replied in his silky smooth voice. “I heard a rumour that you will be joining us tomorrow night.”

“Yes,” Ginny let out a small sigh. Word spread that fast? Slytherins were much more gossipy than Gryffindors, she decided. “Nella and Ros are being deliberately vague. I have no idea what I'm getting myself into.”

He forced a polite chuckle, “Nothing too bad, I promise. If I may be honest with you, it can actually be a little dull.”

Ginny looked over at him with raised eyebrows, “Dull? The girls made it sound like we would be having the time of our lives.” Now she was looking forward to it even less. Small talk with a bunch of Pureblood arses sounded like the worst of times. 

“Oh, I did not intend to turn you off of the idea,” Riddle said hurriedly, voice dripping with fictitious concern. “It's just... Well, some of the girls get a bit gossipy and flirty. I am not terribly fond of that sort of conduct.”

“Neither am I,” Ginny replied with a groan, before she took another sudden, inspired shot at being Riddle’s pal. “I'll tell you what, Riddle. If this shindig gets weird, we can sneak out together and ditch the lot of them.”

“Ah, but won't that look scandalous?” he mused from beside her. “The stories that they would weave if we snuck out together... I'm sure you can imagine?”

Ginny suppressed a shudder, “I suppose I can. I’m all for letting them talk. If their little social gathering is boring, I can’t say I will want to sit there and wait it out. Might as well ditch the lot of them with someone I can tolerate.”

Riddle paused a moment and then resigned himself to agree with her, “Alright, Pyrites. You have got yourself a deal. Shall we have some sort of hand signal to alert each other of our boredom?”

“No,” Ginny smiled, shaking her head. “I’ll just come grab you. No sense in hiding it.”

“Alright. Just so you know, I will be a little late tomorrow night. I am meeting with some  _ friends _ prior to the gathering. Try not to get bored before I arrive,” Riddle teased, though it came off cold and uninviting. He was not very good at poking fun. Other people may have fallen for it, but not Ginny. She was wise to the subterfuge that came from the future Dark Lord.

“Alright, Riddle, I’ll try. Don’t keep me waiting too long, I may just collapse from an overdose of blasé socializing.” As Ginny walked away to go sit with Roslyn in the Great Hall, she realized what Riddle had said.  _ Meeting with some friends. _ What exactly that could be, Ginny only had a few guesses, but she didn’t like the sound of it. Did the Death Eaters exist already? Or what would eventually become them, anyway? Wondering if she should have pried about the meeting, Ginny attempted to pay attention to Roslyn. Getting closer to Riddle and gaining his trust needed to be a higher priority. The upcoming Slytherin congregation seemed like a good place to start, especially with their agreement to bail.

  
  


“Are you honestly just going to wear that outfit?” Nella groaned as she stared at Ginny, hands on her hips and a look of disbelief on her face. “You own a dress, don’t you? Slacks are so unbecoming on a lady. You look frumpy!”

Ginny glanced down at her attire. It was the weekend and Ginny was wearing her only pair of slacks and a simple navy blue blouse. She had been intending on wearing it to the  _ thing _ they were attending that night as well. It made no sense to change her wardrobe for the event. She eyed both Nella and Ros, who were wearing smart looking dresses. Pouting, Ginny crossed her arms over her chest, “I was planning on just wearing this. What’s wrong with being comfortable?

“You look like a ninny,” Nella complained dramatically. Her blue eyes flitted toward Ginny’s trunk. She pointed accusingly toward it, “Please, tell me you have a dress? You must, surely?”

“I do,” Ginny admitted, uninterested in putting one on. She kept her ground and stared back at Nella, “But I--”

“ _ Please _ , dress up a smidge?” Nella resorted to whining, her bottom lip sticking out like a disgruntled toddler. “It’s your first time going and because I like you, Ginny, I don’t want to see you look a fool in front of everyone. The rest of the girls will be dolled up. You don’t need to go all out, of course. It’s not a gala or anything, but at least wear a skirt!”

Ros took a step toward Ginny, looking a little apprehensive. She made a face and motioned to her own lavender high-waist dress and casual off-white cloak, “I would much rather be in your attire, but I promise that Nella’s right. You will look out of sorts in that.” She shrugged sympathetically as if to say  _ it’s your choice, your funeral. _

Defeated, Ginny stomped over to her trunk and flipped it open, careful to unearth her few dresses without revealing the documents that would give away her true identity. She tossed the garments to Ornella, “Fine, tell me what to wear so I don’t look like a  _ ninny _ .”

Smiling triumphantly, Nella appraised Ginny’s dress choices carefully. With a smile of approval, Nella held up the emerald green one, “This one is perfectly Slytherin. You will look darling, Ginny.”

“I hate you just a little bit right now,” Ginny groaned and slammed her trunk shut, locking it swiftly before stripping out of her casual attire. The dress was soft, knee-length with a couple of pleats in the skirt portion. It cinched around the waist and had a scoop neck, with a small grey collar around most of the neck. Her arms were encased in trumpet sleeves that were trimmed in grey to match her collar. Opting to go without a cloak or scarf, Ginny slipped on her grey flats and turned to face Nella, “Satisfied?”

“Mostly,” Nella grinned wickedly at her. “I would accessorize you, but if looks could kill I would be human pudding right now, so I’ll leave it be. Ooh, I’m so excited. We all look so lovely!” 

Lovely would not have been the word Ginny would have used to describe them. More like stuffy and pretentious. Ginny was the most plain of them, but she had to admit that Ros looked pretty in pale purple and white and Nella’s off-the-shoulder maroon dress fit her well. Ginny missed the styles of the 90s, where Muggle influence had been introduced. Jeans and t-shirts were all the rage at that time. She longed for a pair of comfortable jeans to wear beneath a cloak. 

A moment of awkwardness occurred when the trio of dressed-up girls bumped into Cecilia Harkiss, who was on her way up the stairs. Already scowling, Cecilia’s eyes narrowed into slits as she took in their appearance. The tall girl looked positively murderous in Ginny’s direction. 

“ _ She _ ’s invited?” the light-haired girl practically shrieked. Without waiting for an answer, Cecilia pushed past Roslyn and stomped her way into the dormitory. The door slammed shut behind her. Ginny, Ros, and Nella shared an uneasy look between them. Though Cecilia Harkiss was an incredibly foul and generally unlikable person, Ginny did feel bad. Growing up in such a large family allowed for Ginny to know all about feeling left out of something. 

A pang of homesickness overwhelmed her, making her stop in her tracks on the stairs. She pretended to be messing with her bra strap while taking a moment to compose herself. Ginny was not the type to start bawling in public, but she most certainly felt like it at the moment. Even if she could just hug her mum or dad once more, that would be enough. Accepting the fact that Ginny might never return to her time was hard. Some days, she resigned herself to living out her life in 1943, with Nella and Ros and the others, but more often than not, Ginny longed for home. Not the home that was destroyed and overrun by Death Eaters, but the simple times at the Burrow where everyone could forget that Voldemort existed. She wanted another hour of squabbling with Ron or gagging at how sickeningly cute Bill and Fleur were or listening to Fred and George make mischievous plans. One more hour of time with Harry, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Demelza, Anna, and everyone else. It would never be enough, but Ginny would take it in a heartbeat if it were offered.

“Stop dragging your feet,” Nella laughed, taking Ginny by the elbow and guiding her out of the common room. “I know you are uneasy about this, but you have my word that it is _ , at least _ , moderately enjoyable! It would be great for you to get to know some of the others, like the seventh years. Ros and I haven’t done the best of introducing you and I think your situation makes them hesitant to approach you.”

Swallowing back the tormenting touch of yearning for her family was hard, but Ginny Weasley had the determination to do just about anything. She pushed the difficult thoughts out of her head and focused herself. Playing nice with the Slytherins was necessary. Making friends with some of the future Death Eaters could be a good thing. Ginny needed them all to trust her, she needed them to like and respect her so that they might take heed when she spoke of tolerance. Most importantly, she needed to win over Tom Riddle.

The entrance to the Slytherin dormitories and Common Room were almost at the end of a long hallway. Ginny found herself surprised to see both Nella and Ros heading right for the dead end. Almost calling them out on it, Ginny found herself stunned to see a tiny dip on the right side, with a very missable turn that led them to another wall. This wall had a snake-shaped candle holder sticking out from the wall and in it was a red candle. It looked freshly lit.

“Someone’s inside,” Ros announced, pointing at the candle. “Watch this, Ginny.” The dark girl pulled out her wand and tapped it around the candle and holder. After a brief moment, the barricade disappeared and Ginny found herself peering into a long, dimly lit corridor.

“Wow,” was all she could think of to say aloud. Ginny was really wondering if Fred or George had ever heard about this. They had always known practically everything about the school.

Nella beamed and took a step toward the long hallway, “See? It won’t let non-Slytherins through.” To prove her point, she took another few steps through. “Come on!”

Suddenly nervous, Ginny hesitated. She had been a Gryffindor first, would the magic here recognize that? Watching as Ros stepped through, Ginny lingered just outside before taking a deep breath and rushing in. Nothing happened; no bounceback, no alarms, nothing. It let her in. Relaxing once more, she traipsed after the other girls.

“We call this place Sarissa’s Haunt,” Ros slowed down for Ginny to catch up. “Salazar Slytherin’s eldest daughter was named Sarissa and she is said to have made this place as a getaway for her and her closest friends, so it makes sense.” 

The sound of chatting and laughing greeted them as the corridor pooled out into a large, square room. Ginny noticed right off the bat how  _ ancient _ the furnishing looked. Strangely patterned chairs and couches were positioned around the room. There were two circular tables on each side of the room, with wooden chairs around them. On the center of the tables were serpentine candle-holders, just like the one outside. Tall, white candles were stuck into those and looked new. On the walls were green and black tapestries and, Ginny noted immediately, no portraits. A circular mirror hung on the right wall, above a long, rectangular cupboard with glass doors. There were people sitting on the couches, some were standing by a tall bookcase. Ginny found herself unsure of what to do and where to go. Mina Burke and her fiance, Percival Nott, were talking to another couple Ginny didn’t recognize. Rambert Senswitch, a boy in Ginny’s year, was having a deep discussion with a tall, angry looking fellow that Ginny was certain was Tertius Rosier. She recognized Walburga Black instantly, thanks to the portrait in Grimmauld Place. Though the woman was much younger than when her portrait was painted, Walburga did not look that much different. She had the same short, black hair that was curled inward toward her face, an upturned nose, and a rotund physique. 

There were more women than men present, Ginny also noticed. Many of the faces she had expected to see, like Mulciber, Malfoy, Lestrange, Avery and so on, were not around. Most likely, they were with Tom Riddle at his  _ meeting _ .

“Ooh, come on, I see Lucretia opening a bottle of wine,” Nella squealed in delight, leading Ginny to a petite dirty-blonde girl wearing an ice-blue skirt with a dark shirt tucked into the waist, a thick white scarf, and had a bunch of rings on her fingers.

“Ornella, Roslyn,” the girl, Lucretia, greeted them in a soft, husky voice that almost reminded Ginny of Luna Lovegood. “You must be Ginevra! I am Lucretia Black. Pleased to meet your acquaintance.” She set down the freshly opened bottle of wine and extended a heavily-jeweled hand toward Ginny.

“Yeah, I am,” Ginny said weakly, shaking Lucretia’s hand. Another Black? Ginny was not familiar with this one, though something about her looked familiar. Lucretia did not have the typical Black family look. For one, her hair was dirty blonde, though she remembered Narcissa Malfoy (nee Black) had been very blonde. Lucretia’s face was more oval than her family members and her eyes a brilliant green. She was also very small; just shorter than Ginny. 

Lucretia smiled sweetly and reached for the bottle of wine again, “May I tempt you ladies? Oh, Ginevra, we will not get in trouble for having a little wine. Slughorn does not mind in the slightest that my cousin and I bring this in.”

Ginny nodded, feeling like she might need something to get through this evening. She watched as Lucretia filled four glasses up perfectly, each appeared to be filled with the exact same amount. Continuing to play the part of perfect host, Lucretia Black handed out glasses to each of them and then gave herself the last one.

“Might I suggest we toast to Ginevra?” Lucretia suggested delicately, her voice barely loud enough to be heard over the laughter across the room. “It is a dreadful shame what has happened to your family and I am gravely sorry for not offering my condolences sooner. I have not wanted to offend or upset you.” She raised her glass a few inches and smiled prettily.

“Thank you, Lucretia,” Ginny murmured, unable to meet the piercing green eyes of Lucretia Black. “You are very kind.” Ginny raised her glass to clink lightly with hers. Ros and Nella did the same.

The wine tasted expensive. Ginny had never tried wine before, only butterbeer and a few sips of Firewhiskey (thanks to Charlie, though she had sworn to never let that fact slip). She was unsure how she felt about the drink. It wasn’t bad, not at all, just... odd. Sipping at it again, she glanced at the entrance, wondering when the others would show up.

“Are you enjoying Hogwarts?” Lucretia asked in a mildly-curious voice. She could have been reading the paper, or reciting a poem. Her voice was so soft and breathy. 

Ginny swallowed the wine in her mouth quickly, nearly choking on it. She cleared her throat and nodded her head a couple of times, “Yes. It’s great. I wish I had gotten to come here sooner.”

“I’m sure. Being homeschooled does not sound very exciting,” Lucretia smiled apologetically. “You are more socially adept than I expected, no offense. It must be the fact that you had many sisters to bond with.”

“Probably,” Ginny shifted uncomfortably, feeling a little self-conscious. Lucretia’s penetrative stare was making her feel paranoid. What if someone saw through her facade? “We were all each other had. We did just about everything together.”

Ros let out a soft sigh, “I bet you miss them, don’t you Ginny? I am so sorry. I hope Nella and I have been welcoming enough to you.”

Ginny smiled, this time genuinely. Nella and Ros had been great, despite being a little too sophisticated for Ginny. They were good people, even if their beliefs were not completely on par with her own. Both of them had taken the new girl under their wing and rarely let her out of their sight, which was a kind gesture. Both girls had been very inclusive of Ginny and she had appreciated it. “Of course you have, Ros,” Ginny reassured her friend. “You two have been loads of help. I am really thankful for it.”

The smalltalk continued, thankfully moving on from Ginny’s depressing fake life. They spoke of classes, of clothing, of Nella’s brother who had not shown up yet, and then of boys. Lucretia was engaged to Ignatius Prewett, Ginny discovered. With a bit of quick thinking, Ginny realized exactly who this girl was and why she was vaguely familiar. Ignatius Prewett was the brother of Ginny’s grandfather, making him her Great Uncle. That meant Lucretia was her Great Aunt. Ginny had even met her a couple of times, but Molly had always referred to the woman fondly as ‘Aunt Lucy’,  _ never _ Lucretia. Ginny also remembered that Uncle Ignatius had passed away when Ginny was eight and Lucretia had passed in Ginny’s first year at school. She vaguely remembered getting the letter from her mum, for at the time Ginny had been so invested into writing in her beloved diary. 

Taking a look at the entrance again, Ginny wondered where Tom Riddle was. His meeting, or whatever, seemed to be taking a while. She was definitely bored, but had to stay at least until he showed up. 

“Looking for someone?” Nella giggled knowingly as she nudged Ginny. “A certain sixth year Prefect, perhaps?”

“What?” Ginny stared at her friend blankly. 

“It’s obvious you fancy him,” Nella said exasperatedly. She glanced over at Ros, who nodded in confirmation. “You always seem to be looking at him for him! Besides, I think he might also be interested in you, because he  _ never _ walks people to class like he does with you.”

Lucretia tilted her head, letting her dark blonde hair fall into her eyes, “Who? Do you mean that Riddle boy?”

“Yes!” Nella almost shouted and then immediately lowered her voice. “He walks Ginny to classes sometimes. It’s rather darling. I quite think he was smitten with her from the first day. Must be something about that red hair of hers. I have heard it drives men wild because it’s so rare.”

“I have heard that as well,” Lucretia Black agreed in her strangely breathless voice. “He is a very handsome boy. A little odd, and not the most approachable... Nor am I sure about his history at all...”

Ginny downed some more of her wine and tried to steer the conversation away from this dangerous territory, “No, no, no, I don’t fancy anyone. Say, what else do you--”

A group of girls appeared behind Lucretia, looking excited and giggly, and possibly tipsy. Ginny recognized Walburga Black at the forefront of the posse. It was also at that moment that Tom Riddle arrived, with a gaggle of boys. Grateful the conversation had ended, she tried to focus on what was being discussed before she would politely excuse herself. Walburga and Lucretia were speaking quickly to one another, in low voices. 

“I’m confused,” Ginny leaned over to Ros, whispering to the tall, dark girl.

“I think we might play a game,” Ros told her with a slight frown. “The girls love this game. It’s rather childish, but now that the rest of the boys are here for the most part...”

“What sort of game?” Ginny pressed.

“A kissing game!” Nella informed her, beaming widely and giggling. “It’s a bit silly, but we sort of have this thing we do. One of us gets told to peck one of them, the cheek is acceptable, and we have to find a way to be sneaky about it without getting caught.”

Ginny wanted to roll her eyes. This sounded absolutely childish, but she pretended to be intrigued. As she was supposed to be a girl homeschooled and hidden away her entire life, Ginny had to act like she had never snogged anyone, ever. The idea made her want to laugh. She had done much more than that between her three boyfriends. She finished her wine and allowed Lucretia to refill her glass.

“Ginevra, right?” Walburga attempted to smile at her, but it looked more like an ugly sneer. She did not conceal the fact that she was appraising Ginny warily. Knowing how this woman would eventually treat her eldest son made Ginny dislike her instantly. “It is very exciting to have a Pyrites family member here with us tonight. Your family is as ancient as my own!”

“You must be Lucretia’s cousin,” Ginny attempted to sound courteous and welcoming to the larger girl. 

“I am, my name’s Walburga. My brother Alphard is around here somewhere, probably skulking around doing  _ something _ obnoxious. He is twelve,” Walburga rolled her eyes. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Ginny lied, hoping it sounded genuine. 

A few others introduced themselves to Ginny, including another Malfoy. She was skinny, doe-eyed, and very, very blonde, but exceptionally shy. It almost baffled Ginny, having dealt with Lucius and Draco, who were haughty and obnoxious. Abraxas wasn’t as bad as his future son and grandson, but he was definitely conceited. Maria Malfoy (her lack of terrible name was also surprising) was quick to blush and stammered over every sentence uttered. Ginny was also introduced to another Yaxley, a fifth-year named Lillyette. Preferring to be called Lilly, she was very snobbish and unwelcoming to Ginny. The younger girl seemed to dislike when the attention was off of her. 

“I think it’s a good time to set off a few missions for the night,” Walburga announced, just loud enough for the girls to hear.

“Won’t they know what we’re up to?” Ginny questioned. If this went on as often as it sounded like, the boys had to know what was coming. It seemed stupid to hide it from them.

Lucretia laughed in a soft, musical way, “Oh, yes, they know what we’re doing. But, they do not know  _ when _ it will happen. Besides, they may not admit it, but the majority of them like the attention. We assign these tasks early on in the night and then we mingle. Not too many, just two or three of us have a mission. Over the night, the missions need to be completed. The goal is to find the right moment to sneak the kiss in and surprise them.”

A chubby girl with a pair of brunette braids and bright blue eyes raised a hand, “May I propose a mission?”

“Of course, Ernestine,” Walburga smiled at the girl in a devilish way. “What were you thinking?”

The girl called Ernestine glanced sheepishly over at what appeared to be a friend of hers. Said friend was flushing as red as Ginny’s hair. Ernestine giggled before saying quietly, “Hecate should give Philip Parkinson a kiss!”

“Hecate, that is now your mission,” Lucretia said solemnly, touching the red-faced girl on her warm cheeks. “You can do this, don’t fret little one.”

“I’ve got a proposal too,” Nella piped up, looking very smug. Ginny suddenly had a sinking feeling in her stomach, but there was no way to stop Nella Greengrass. The blonde girl stared at Ginny with a sneaky little grin, “We should see if Ginny here can get a kiss on Riddle. He’s elusive. Every single time we have tried this on him, he has called out the girl before it could happen. We stopped trying to sneak one on him ages ago. You like him and you’re new here, so you should have the honours.”

Ginny felt herself go as red as Hecate, “Oh no, I don’t--”

“Really? Tom Riddle?” Walburga did not seem impressed. In fact, Ginny would have dared to say the woman despised Riddle. Walburga crossed her arms and shrugged a single shoulder. “Well, good luck to you, Ginevra.”

She really wished people would stop calling her Ginevra. Perturbed, Ginny watched as the last mission of the night went to Lucretia Black kissing John Mulciber, which was apparently absolutely scandalous since the girl was betrothed. The girls dissipated then, going to mingle with the other guests. Ginny hovered with Nella and Ros, sipping wine and feeling very unimpressed by the night’s events. This was  _ not _ going to help her gain Riddle’s favour, Ginny was certain of it. However, she also needed to earn the trust and respect of these girls too. Maybe, it would be possible to urge Walburga Black to not treat her firstborn son like garbage! Ginny almost laughed at that concept. Walburga didn’t seem like the type to take advice from anyone.

“The girls will all be keeping an eye on you, Lucretia, and Hecate,” Roslyn told Ginny as they all refilled their glasses of wine for the third time. None of them were tipsy, but Ginny could feel the wine warming up her insides.

“Brilliant,” Ginny grumped and then glared at Nella. “I do  _ not _ fancy him, you know. We’re just classmates.”

“Sure,” Nella smirked into her glass. “Keep telling yourself that. You just might not recognize the signs of it because you were homeschooled, but I can tell. I always know these things.”

This was one of the many times Ginny wished she could correct someone about their perception of her. It really was hard having everyone think she was a helpless, innocent child who had never really seen the world before. She had seen a lot of things, experienced a lot of things. She had loved, she had fought, she had lost. But, no one could know those things about her. Ginny could never tell Ros and Nella about her first kiss, with Michael Corner. They would never get to know about when Dean got caught with his hands up her shirt by Seamus Finnigan. They wouldn’t know about her first-time, the awkwardness with Dean, or how much better it had been with Harry... even though  _ he _ had broken up with her right after.

“He’s going to know what I’m up to,” Ginny tried to argue and forget the memories of her past loves. “You already said he always knows.”

“Maybe he won’t suspect you,” Ros offered. “Just give it a shot, I bet you can do it. Just peck him on the cheek really fast when he least expects it. It’ll be great. You will be, like... a hero if you do.”

Grumbling, Ginny took her wine glass with her as she went to greet Tom Riddle and Abraxas Malfoy. She tried to smile at the two of them, “Hello. Nice to see you two finally made it.”

“Pyrites,” Abraxas said cordially with a warm smile. His blonde hair was slicked back in a way that was so reminiscent of his grandson that Ginny nearly scowled at him. “Have they introduced you to their little game yet?”

She tried to appear inconspicuous and looked down at her feet, in hopes to seem innocent and embarrassed by the mere idea of a snogging game, “Yes. They told me about it.”

Abraxas laughed heartily and gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, “The Black girls sure do love their games.”

“They most certainly do,” Tom Riddle spoke up, giving Ginny a look of concern. He seemed a little suspicious of her, but said nothing accusatory. “The Black cousins have introduced you to wine already as well, I see.”

Ginny gave him an innocent grin, “They did! I think I’m starting to enjoy it.” She took a big sip to prove her point.

“Don’t have too much,” Riddle suggested firmly.

“I will be on my best behavior, Mr. Prefect,” Ginny said solemnly, winking at Malfoy behind Riddle’s back. Malfoy snickered.

Abraxas soon excused himself, wandering over to Nott and Mina Burke. Ginny, feeling about a thousand eyes boring into her, glanced up at the tall, future Dark Lord, “I was brewing an escape plan about five minutes after arriving.”

Tom Riddle laughed and, surprisingly, it sounded almost genuine. Her statement must have been unexpected. His dark eyes met her own, “Were you? Pity I was late. My apologies. It’s not too late to continue planning our exit strategy.”

Ginny chuckled darkly, swirling the wine in her glass, “Oh, I’m considering it.”

The room erupted into a loud roar when blushing Hecate pecked a kiss onto the cheek of the Parkinson boy. Riddle shook his head, “One mission down, I take it.”

“I guess so,” Ginny responded, hoping to sound confused. “I don’t really get this game.”

“Mostly, it’s used to embarrass someone though the girls will declare otherwise,” Riddle told her in a quiet voice. “Girls talk and when one fancies a boy, it gets around faster than Dragon Pox. In that situation, it was very apparent that Hecate Orpington fancied Philip Parkinson, so the girls found a way to make it happen. It is their pitiful attempt at playing matchmaker because none of them are brave enough to be upfront about their feelings.”

“That’s basically what I was thinking it was,” Ginny agreed. The 1940s were were like that. Harry was the only boy that had ever turned Ginny into a blushing, sappy mess. With Michael, he had asked her out and she’d instantly agreed, but she had been the one to snog him first. With Dean, Ginny dropped very unsubtle hints about being interested and made the first move on him. These girls were too timid and had to deal with things like their parents figuring out their husbands for them.

“Would you like to have a seat so we can talk?” Riddle motioned to an empty couch along the left side of the wall. 

Ginny acquiesced and followed Riddle to the couch. She sat down first and he sat down beside her, with enough space between them so that Ginny would have to lunge at him to complete her mission. She cursed Nella mentally for putting her up to this. Maybe Ginny would just forgo even trying. What would the girls really do if Ginny failed the mission? It was unlikely they would shun her for it.

“So, you told me your family was friendly with Rowena Ravenclaw,” Riddle brought up casually, not quite meeting Ginny’s gaze. He was observing the room carefully. “That’s brilliant. You do not meet many families that can claim that these days. Most of their lines have died out.”

Most. Ginny knew exactly what Tom Riddle meant by most, but she kept her mouth shut about what she knew. She sipped her wine and moved slightly closer to him, “Yes, my father always said that one of my ancestors was practically Rowena’s best mate. Of course, I don’t know how true that was, but if it is true... isn’t that absolutely fascinating?”

“Remarkably so,” Riddle turned his face and peered into her eyes curiously. “Did your family own anything that would have confirmed that friendship? Perhaps, a token of hers or something passed down?”

Ginny thought quickly on how to answer this. She needed to keep Tom Riddle interested in her. She needed to gain his trust. He was a hard person to read and understand. Ginny bit her lip, “I’m actually not sure. My house was destroyed and I never went back to the remains of it to see what was left. I was told not much. We... well, I guess it’s just me now, heh. I, uhm, have a vault at Gringotts, but I haven’t had much time to go through it yet. Didn’t seem like there was much in it outside of money, but I didn’t look too thoroughly or anything.” 

Riddle’s eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement, a dark sort of desire that Ginny found very unnerving. He seemed to be trying to compose himself, “Really? Do you plan on visiting the ruins of your house or going through your vault at a later date?”

“I might,” Ginny said slowly, knowing that she had no intention of doing any such thing. “I’m a little scared though. To go back to the ruins, I mean.” She glanced down at her lap.

“Of course,” Riddle replied sympathetically. He was sitting up very straight, nearly at the edge of the couch in anticipation. His hands were folded in his lap. “I apologize if I sound pushy. It’s just that I am so interested in the subject of the Founder’s. I have read that most of their belongings have been destroyed or lost. Since your family was said to be close with Rowena--”

“You thought I might be able to enlighten you, of course, I get it,” Ginny offered him a reassuring grin. “If I find anything, I’ll let you know, Riddle. You’re one of my few friends here and you’ve treated me really nicely. I would let you see anything about the Founder’s, if I came across it.” She hoped that sounded genuine and not creepy.

“Would you?” Riddle started to say, looking almost too eager for Ginny’s liking. “That would be most excellent. Thank you, Pyrites. I am glad you see me as a friend.”

“Of course I do!” Ginny forced a bit of ferocity into her tone. How would she talk to someone like Neville? “You... understand me, Riddle. You know what it’s like to be... all alone. Nella and Ros are really nice and all, but they have families and homes to go to. I haven’t been able to tell them I have nowhere to go for Christmas. I-- I don’t have any place to go to for the summer either. The Headmaster said I have to go try and find a friend to stay with or get a room at the Leaky Cauldron.”

“Yes, I do know what it’s like,” Riddle replied harshly. “It is appalling they will not make exceptions for people like us with nowhere else to go.”

Ginny nodded in agreement, “I think so too. After everything I have gone through, I would have thought someone might want to help me. I--” Ginny paused for dramatic effect. “I don’t really know how to live on my own, you know?”

“You are intelligent and quick to learn, Pyrites. I think you will be just fine, but I understand your worries,” Riddle looked down at his hands. “If it is any consolation to you, I must return to an orphanage during my summers. I do my best to find temporary work, but nothing like that allows me to afford my own space.”

“I’m sorry,” Ginny reached out to touch his arm. He recoiled from her, as she had expected. “I would probably be sent to an orphanage too, if I weren’t considered an adult already.”

“You’re of age?” Riddle looked up at her curiously.

“I am, but keep it a secret okay? The professors thought I should start at sixth year, since I’ve only been home-schooled,” Ginny ducked her head and fiddled with her hair. “I don’t want anyone to think me stupid.” She looked up and met his dark eyes, taking in how handsome he was when he didn’t have some phony look on his face. The genuine curiosity was endearing. Ginny wanted to gag at the acknowledgement. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” he replied earnestly; voice low and seductive.

With Riddle looking at her the way he was, his eyes so alight with curiosity about her family and life, Ginny knew it was time. There was no sinister smile, no malevolence about him. This was just Tom Riddle, not Lord Voldemort. He might be brewing the recipe for Death Eaters and world domination, but Ginny had time to ruin those plans. She gave him a sweet, toothy grin before rising to her feet. Before Riddle could copy her, she leaned in to complete her mission.

Ginny must have caught him off guard, because he turned his face ever so slightly, as if he were about to say something to her. Instead of pecking his jawline, as she anticipated, Ginny kissed him straight on the lips. They were warm and soft; inviting. Maybe it was the fact that it had been so long since Ginny had been kissed, but she didn’t feel like stopping. She longed to be held, to be wanted... but this was teenage Lord Voldemort. She pulled away, her cheeks reddening. She did not meet his eyes.  _ ‘Think of Harry, think of Harry!’ _

“Sorry Riddle,” Ginny murmured under her breath. “I hope you will forgive me for that.” Inwardly grossing herself out, she decided on instinct to add, “Nella found out that I liked you so... she nominated me for one of those stupid missions.” 

Without waiting for a response, Ginny rushed off to the stunned faces of her friends. 


	7. Chapter Six

Riddle chose to pretend that nothing had happened between them, so Ginny behaved in a similar fashion. The girls who were in attendance during her successful mission were in reverence of Ginny. She succeeded in the impossible. Walburga Black had been almost too eager to divulge what she knew about Tom Riddle’s dating history, which was nothing but him turning down any and all interested girls. The unpleasant older girl was also keen to harp on Riddle’s questionable bloodline and how so many Slytherins seemed to be swayed by him. Ginny inwardly cringed at the thought of being the Dark Lord’s first kiss. But, despite that unnerving fact, Ginny found it perplexing that Riddle had never taken up a girlfriend, as it appeared many were attracted to him.

The whole school seemed to find out, rather quickly, that Ginevra Pyrites had kissed Tom Riddle. She was pretty sure that the Black cousins were the ones to divulge that fact to other Slytherins, who in turn spread it further around the castle. The look of jealousy from girls of other houses was something Ginny found herself growing accustomed to during the week after the snogging mission.

“I think that Hufflepuff girl is trying to light you on fire with her eyes,” Lucretia Black informed Ginny as she sat down across from the redhead for supper. “Would you like me to go over there and tell her off?”

“No, it's okay,” Ginny glanced over her shoulder and scowled at the pissed off Hufflepuff. If she could, Ginny would stand up atop the table and proclaim she did not actually fancy Tom-stinking-Riddle. If only she did not have an image to maintain. A crush on Riddle made things a little easier for her. It gave her an excuse to try and get in his good graces without anyone thinking much of it. Of course, this was assuming Riddle wouldn't push her away, but Ginny had a feeling her supposed connection to Ravenclaw would keep her safe for now. Riddle liked people who were useful to him, so Ginny needed to be so.

After supper, Ginny ditched her Slytherin friends and went to wander the castle before curfew. She was in need of some peace and quiet, not the incessant chatter from the other girls. It was a habit she had gotten into before when the Gryffindor Common Room was too noisy or her brothers were being obnoxious.

Though it was tempting to go up to Gryffindor tower and see if someone would let her inside, Ginny refrained. She really did miss her old house. Being constantly homesick was becoming something Ginny was growing used to having lingering in the pit of her stomach. Ginny tried to use that emotion to motivate her to make changes to the people around her. The day after the Slytherin meetup, Ginny had finally learned what exactly Ornella Greengrass thought about Muggles and Mudbloods.

Nella had confided in Ginny that the Greengrass family was not as old as others in their house and she was fairly certain her family name had originated from a Muggleborn a few hundred years ago. To Ginny, that was forever ago, but to Nella, that was still too recent in the Pureblood world. The pretty blonde sounded genuinely ashamed of this, but Ginny told her that none of that blood purity stuff mattered. After a little more talking, Ginny asked her friend what she would do if she fell in love with a Muggleborn. Nella had admitted she would follow her heart, because that was what her parents wanted for her.

“The only reason one of my brothers is betrothed is because the girl’s family asked and my brother was okay with it. We don’t want to be shunned,” Nella had revealed. “They won't force me to marry if I don't wish to. They would let me choose and would love me no matter what. I feel bad for everyone else with less tolerant parents.”

That explained the mindset Daphne and Astoria Greengrass carried in 1998. Ginny was glad those ideals had passed on, but wished the lot of them had not needed to hide it so much. Ginny suggested being more open about it to Nella, but the girl had muttered something about not wanting to be a nobody. 

_ ‘I would rather be disliked by a bunch of elitist imbeciles than act like I hate Muggleborns,’  _ Ginny thought bitterly as she took slow steps up to the Astronomy tower. 

The pressure of saving the world began to weigh on her again. It was hard to believe that one girl could do enough; could create enough ripples to change the future. Logically, she knew that the fact that she was here in 1943 was changing the future. Maybe, those small things she had done would affect something later on. Perhaps, that talk with Nella would be what made her less ashamed of liking Muggleborns. Though unlikely, maybe that kiss with Riddle would open his eyes to a world of love, instead of power. Ginny wanted to laugh out loud. As if the Dark Lord would be swayed so easily. Harry had once mentioned that Voldemort did not know love. Maybe someone needed to show him that he could be desired as he was. Tom Riddle was unhappy with his Muggle father and sought power and immortality to fix his life, to never feel unworthy or unwanted again. Where had that mindset come from? Was it because his childhood had been lonely and awful in an orphanage? Or because his “friends” at school were simply just followers? Had Tom Riddle ever let anyone in to get to know the real him? It crossed Ginny’s mind that maybe Riddle thought no one would like or respect someone that embraced his Muggle heritage and seemed weak. Slytherin house seemed to prey on that sort of thing. 

Groaning at the whirlwind of thoughts, Ginny paused on the steps as she nearly reached the top of the tower. Was someone already up there? She strained to listen.

“--what you know!” 

Ginny took another step up. What was that about? It sounded angry. She wondered if there was a couple having a row up there. She hovered, trying to decide what to do. 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” a cracking, male's voice projected a bit louder. It sounded like they were a younger student. Ginny put a hand on her wand, just in case.

“Yes, you do. I was told very explicitly that  _ your _ family have all been in Hufflepuff since the beginning of time, MacMillan. If anyone knows anything about it, it's you!”

Ginny recognized that voice. John Mulciber! The creepy git that hung around Riddle and kept making eyes at Ginny. She grit her teeth. What could he want with this MacMillan kid? It did not sound like just a friendly chat between the two of them.

“I swear I don't know,” the younger voice cracked again. “Please don’t hex me.”

Mulciber laughed coldly, “Better write to mummy and ask, kid. I won't hex you just yet.”

“Why do you even care? You're a Slytherin and that stupid thing might not even exist!”

“Yeah? Well, you better do your research, kid. I won't take no maybe for an answer. It's not your bloody business why I'm asking, just know that I need it. I'll be nice and give you a couple o’ weeks to figure it out.”

Not wanting to be seen by either of them, Ginny carefully went back down the stairs. She replayed the conversation again in her head, slowly trying to decide if she was understanding correctly. Mulciber had mentioned the MacMillan student’s family as being Hufflepuff since the beginning of time. It reminded her of the things Riddle said about the Pyrites family being a friend of Ravenclaw’s. Ginny was sure this wasn't Mulciber merely being curious, it was Riddle using the other boy to get information for him. He was looking for something of Hufflepuff’s.

Frowning all the way back to Slytherin, Ginny thought it even more imperative that she get in the way of whatever Riddle was planning.

  
  


An idea came to Ginny the next morning, when a crowd of people around the Slytherin bulletin board greeted her in the common room. Ginny knew that sort of excitement could only mean one thing -- Hogsmeade weekend. Though, Quidditch tryouts had been the week before so perhaps the announcement had gone up for who made it. Ginny had been sorely tempted to try out for the team, but opted not to in the end. She didn’t need to bring more attention to herself and Nella pointed out that no matter how much flying and playing Ginny may have done with her sisters, that didn't mean she could actually play Quidditch. Ginny relented, but swore to try out for Chaser next year, assuming she was still stuck here by then. Deep down, Ginny knew she would be.

Maneuvering through the sea of Slytherins, Ginny managed to get close enough and peer around someone to see the big, red letters that announced a Hogsmeade weekend. Her eyes caught the date: Saturday, the 16th of October, 1943. She smiled. Perfect. She would be asking Tom Riddle to be her date. 

Ideally, Ginny wanted to catch him alone, but he was having a long conversation with Ragnar Lestrange before Potions. Ginny anxiously awaited for their lone trip up the secret pathway to Charms. She originally considered writing him a note during Potions, but the class had been too chaotic as they all worked on their Draught of Living Death. It didn’t help that one of the Gryffindor girls exploded the contents of her cauldron, turning everything it touched pink. She and Riddle were thankfully unscathed due to their placement in the classroom and were permitted to leave early. Roslyn had not been so lucky, there were several pink splotches in her curly hair. Those who had been touched by the potion were asked to stay behind while Slughorn fixed them up. Ginny gave Ros a sympathetic wave before following Riddle out. Nella seemed to want to catch her, but Ginny shook her head ever so slightly to hint to her that it was not a good time.

Ginny was stupidly nervous as they slowly snuck behind the tapestry to the staircase that no one seemed to know about. She had thought to ask him out right away, but they made it almost halfway up the stairs before Ginny finally took hold of her Gryffindor bravery and tugged on Riddle’s arm.

“Riddle? Can you hang on a second?” Ginny asked, wincing at her own shaky voice. ‘ _ I’m playing the part of an innocent, homeschooled girl. It makes sense for me to sound like that.’ _

“What's wrong?” Riddle turned around to face her. Standing several steps above Ginny made the already tall Slytherin look like a giant. “Did you notice some of that potion on your person?”

Ginny shook her head and moved to the step below Riddle, wishing he wasn't so bloody tall. It made her feel like a child standing next to him. She fiddled with the strap of her bag before she blurted out, “I was hoping you would go to Hogsmeade with me on the sixteenth. I've never been of course and I thought you could show me around.” She felt herself blushing and wanted to slap herself for doing so. ‘ _ Stupid, Ginny. Real classy,’ _ she thought irritably to herself.

Riddle gave her that fake smile, though his eyes were cloudy and his expression unreadable. He pursed his lips before responding, “I'm afraid I have to say no, Pyrites. Not because I do not wish to go with you, but because I have no guardian to sign my permission slip for Hogsmeade and will not be of age until December. I have not been there as of yet. I am sorry to disappoint you.”

Ginny felt like an idiot. She should have known that already. The only reason she could go was because she was of age. Ginny had signed her own slip. She quickly concocted another idea, “That's okay. I have a better idea then.”

“Hmm?”

With her Gryffindor guts fully taking over, Ginny hopped up onto the same step as Riddle, definitely invading his personal space. She looked up at him with a big, goofy grin on her face, “When will the next Hogsmeade weekend be? After your birthday, right?”

Riddle stared at her skeptically and answered cautiously, “In February.”

“Okay!” Ginny continued to smile like an idiot. “How about this then, Riddle. I'll stay behind and hang around the school with you on the sixteenth. Then, we can  _ both _ experience Hogsmeade for the first time in February, together.” It seemed like a good deal, even though Ginny had been to Hogsmeade before plenty of times. Making such an offer to Tom Riddle might show him how it felt to have a real friend.

Riddle appeared to be caught off guard by her willingness to miss out on something fun for his sake. He didn’t quite meet her gaze, staring at something near her shoulder, “You shouldn't feel the need to skip a fun weekend because I cannot attend. That is absurd, Pyrites.”

She grabbed the sleeve of his robes and tugged, so that Riddle was looking at her again. Ginny made sure to gaze right into his dark, hazel eyes, “I would much rather spend the day with you. Nella and Roslyn will just want to shop and gossip anyway. I can do whatever you get up to on Hogsmeade weekends, even if it is sitting in the library and reading books. I'll keep you company and do homework or something.”

It was amusing to see a glimpse of shock cross teenage Lord Voldemort’s face. Someone was willingly sacrificing something for his sake. Ginny felt like doing a victory dance, but held off as Riddle seemed to be deliberately constructing a response.

“Is that a yes?” Ginny pried hopefully. She wanted to do some snooping on Riddle, she wanted to ask him questions.

“If you're certain you wish to spend the day indoors instead of with your friends,” Riddle smoothly tugged his sleeve out of her possession. “I shall not be offended if you change your mind before then.”

Ginny beamed, “I won't. Come on, I hope I didn't make us late for Charms.” She ducked past him and raced up the stairs, with Riddle behind her. This mission was a complete success, at least so far. The former Gryffindor was feeling pretty pleased with herself. Everything was going much more smoothly than anticipated. Ginny thought she might have needed to plead.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Ginny paused and turned around to face him once more, wanting to thank him for agreeing to her plan. With Riddle on a step below her, he was of a more reasonable height. How was it fair for someone like him to be so striking in appearance? He truly was quite beautiful and Ginny could not resist the urge to admire him for a moment. Without thinking, Ginny leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on his pale cheek, “You're the sweetest boy here, Tom Riddle.” 

  
  


Nella stared at Ginny in disbelief. They were both sitting on Ginny’s bed together in their nightgowns, conversing in low voices about Ginny’s successful attempt at getting Tom Riddle to agree to spending the day with her.

“And he agreed to take you to Hogsmeade in February!” Nella exclaimed loudly, her sky blue eyes wide and bright with excitement and delight. “He _ knows _ that it's always near Valentine's Day. Oh, Ginny, you might be the first girl he has ever fancied. At least that he’s let on about.”

“Shhhhh!” Ginny waved her hands wildly at her friend. She had already come to the Valentine’s Day Hogsmeade trip conclusion. As most men did, Ginny suspected he had forgotten about that fact. “I don't think he fancies me, he might just be acting like a gentleman because... well, that's how he is.”

Her friend shook her head, stretching out her legs and leaning on an elbow, “Oh no, Ginny. Riddle has been asked out loads of times. He _ always _ declines. Maybe he has finally reached an age where he is thinking with his  _ privates _ instead of his brain.” The blonde tittered into uncontrollable giggles, rolling onto her back and clutching her stomach. 

“Ornella!” Ginny hissed, grabbing a pillow and smacking her friend with it. It was hard to believe that talking about one's privates could make someone laugh so hard. Nella would have been hysterical if she knew what people said in the 90s. Or maybe horrified. “Come off it! You keep your impure thoughts to yourself! Sheesh!” The time traveler blanched at the idea of Riddle trying to make a move on her. It wouldn’t happen. He just wanted to keep her around for Ravenclaw artifacts and for another ancient Pureblood family to ally with. The day he tried to recruit her as a Death Eater would seriously suck.

Continuing to guffaw, Nella smiled up at the canopy above the bed. It took her a few moments to calm down. “I watch you two, you know. He stares at you more often than you might notice. You would think he's never seen a ginger before.”

“He does not stare at me!” Ginny protested.

“He does too!” Nella retorted, turning her head to give Ginny a raspberry. “Riddle adores you, I bet.”

“Riddle’s a halfblood,” an irritated voice cut into their conversation. Cecilia Harkiss, of course, looking as bitter as always. She had been exceptionally unpleasant now that Ginny had been invited to Saturday evenings in a secret room with an elite group of Slytherins. The tall, sour-looking girl stood to the side of Ginny’s bed, with her skirt rolled up and her blonde hair curled inward in a style reminiscent of Walburga Black. She glared at them through her thin-rimmed glasses.

“So?” Ginny asked sharply. It was hard to be patient with someone as mean and unfriendly as Cecilia Harkiss. No matter how many times Ginny spoke to her, the only thing she received were snappy remarks in return. “I can't say I care.”

“You should,” Harkiss sneered at the two girls. “People whisper behind his back, you know. Riddle isn't a Wizarding name at all. Probably  _ Muggle _ . You would be sullying that perfect Pyrites bloodline with him.”

Nella frowned and sat up, tucking some strands of hair behind her ear, “Cecilia, be nice. You don't always have to be so unpleasant. You know I don't care about your bloodline and neither does Ginny! I'm sorry--”

“Oh, be quiet, you're just as rotten as the rest of them. A bloody hypocrite too. They don't seem to care that Riddle’s a Halfblood, but they mind that I am! They let  _ him _ into the social circles because he's charming and intimidates everyone around him! I  _ know  _ he bullied Abraxas Malfoy into inviting him to that stupid group,” angry tears were welling up in Cecilia's eyes. “You didn't invite  _ me _ , Ornella.”

“I tried!” Nella barked back at the furious girl. “I asked and they said no, I can't control that, Cecilia! I still wanted to be your friend, you know, but you pushed me away! I'm sorry you feel left out, but you don't need to take it out on Ginny. She doesn't care about what blood status any of us are. If she likes Riddle, then that is her prerogative. I doubt the opinion of Walburga Black and her cronies will change anything!”

Ginny felt exceptionally uncomfortable with the argument. It was so painfully obvious how much Harkiss just wanted to be desired and liked by the Purebloods. She was frantic to be a part of anything cool and interesting. Ginny opened her mouth to say something encouraging to her tearful roommate, but Cecilia had decided to storm off and slammed the door shut behind her.

Both Nella and Ginny were quiet after Harkiss left. Nella seemed shaken from the altercation and Ginny didn't know how to help. “That sucked. I feel bad for her,” Ginny remarked glumly.

“Yes, well, she brings some of that upon herself by acting the way she does,” Nella grumped. She carefully rubbed at her eyes and Ginny pretended not to notice.

Ginny pursed her lips and waited a moment before asking Nella a question, “Hey Nella, what was she talking about when she said Riddle bullied an invite out of Malfoy?”

“Well,” Nella said slowly, returning to her flopped position on Ginny’s bed. “I don't know if it's true, but I heard he felt entitled to be a part of the thing on Saturday nights. Riddle isn't a known magical name or anything, just like Cecilia said. But, a while ago, Malfoy vouched for him out of the blue and the majority voted to let him in. It sort of seemed like Malfoy was forced into it. All of Riddle’s other lackeys voted in favour of him joining too, obviously. I don't mind Riddle, Ginny, not really, but it seems like all those blokes just follow him around blindly. Riddle could make a bizarre request and some of them would jump up to fulfill it without hesitation. It's a little strange.”

Ginny pondered a moment, though she understood more than Nella did. “Riddle must inspire that sort of camaraderie among them. He does seem like he could be a leader. He's smart and cordial, maybe he's just the alpha among the men?”

Nella burst out laughing, causing Ginny to stare at her like she was a nutter. Nella cast Ginny a bemused look, “You must really like him, sheesh.  _ Alpha among the men. _ Merlin, Ginny!”

“Oh, shut it,” Ginny threw another green pillow at her.

  
  
  


The second Saturday night rendezvous with the clique of Slytherins was much less interesting than the time before. There were no missions assigned as several of the blokes, Riddle included, had not shown up. When Ginny questioned their absence, Walburga explained that not everyone showed up every week, but the invite was always open once it had been extended. Lucretia also added that Hogsmeade weekends were usually the lightest in attendance, because everyone was tired from being out all day. Ginny took that as a sign she could skip out the following weekend and be alright.

The only worthwhile point of the night had been when Kassimira Twilfitt disclosed to Ginny that she asked Riddle out the year prior and had been turned down. The frail seeming girl had been utterly heartbroken by the rejection, especially since she was a year older than him. The way Kassimira had relayed the situation painted Riddle to be quite cruel, he had publicly rejected and humiliated her. Ginny had not been able to ask many more questions, as Kassimira ended up having a coughing fit and needed to be escorted away to calm down. Roslyn leaned over to whisper in Ginny’s ear and explain that the Twilfitt girl was always very ill.

The morning of Hogsmeade weekend, several of the Slytherin girls badgered Ginny about going with them. Nella and Roslyn didn’t even bother trying, as they were aware that Ginny was set on spending the day with Riddle. However, Hilde Thorne, an elusive roommate of Ginny’s, happened to find it positively absurd that Ginny was willingly staying behind. Lucretia, Walburga, and Theodisia Williams, all seventh years, thought Ginny was being childish and tried their best to change her mind. None of them managed to succeed.

Once everyone began to leave, Ginny approached Riddle, who was reading his Defense Against the Dark Arts book at the table. She sat down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, “What's the plan today, Riddle?”

“You're still here,” Riddle was visibly surprised. “I thought those girls may have convinced you to leave with them. They were trying quite hard.”

“I'm stubborn,” Ginny informed him, glancing down at the page he was on. She wanted to roll her eyes. Of course he was reading next week’s lesson already. “I told you I would hang out with you today. Tell me what we have planned!”

“I usually work on things in the library,” Riddle replied slowly, dog-earing the page of his book to mark the spot. “Not very fun for you.”

It definitely sounded less fun than going to Hogsmeade, but the decision had already been made. “I can get my books and meet you there? It's not like I don't have homework to do too,” Ginny suggested.

“If you wish,” he replied easily. Riddle paused a moment, his fingers tracing the letters on the front of his Defense book. After a brief moment, he looked up at Ginny with a hard look on his face, “I have a compromise to offer that you might like better.”

Ginny placed an elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand, “Oh really? Lay it on me then.” In her head, she was already planning an argumentative stance if he tried to push her away with some stupid ‘compromise.’

“I want to get some reading and homework done,” Riddle’s eyes flicked down to his book briefly. “You are welcome to join, of course, but I will end my studies a bit early today and I was thinking I might take you on a walk around the school grounds?”

Merlin, he was so polite. It drove her crazy to know that Tom Riddle could effortlessly put on a pleasant face, while deep down be plotting to murder everyone. She was actually taken aback by his suggestion though. Voldemort, sacrificing precious time in the library for her? “Oh, I thought you might have been preparing to tell me to bugger off. I had a rebuttal ready to go,” Ginny laughed sheepishly.

He chuckled and rose from the table, extending a pale hand to Ginny, “I keep my word, Pyrites.”

Taking the hand, Ginny couldn’t help but wonder why  _ this _ Riddle couldn’t be the actual Riddle. Though it seemed unlikely, Ginny wanted to find a way to make him see that the smart, courteous, sweet Riddle was better than the world domineering monster he would become. But the never-ending question was how? How did you teach pure evil to have a heart and to care for something or someone? Was the future that Ginny was a part of truly what Riddle of this era wanted? Or was he just merely obsessed with the Founder’s and his Slytherin lineage? Had he cooked up the idea of using Horcruxes and becoming an immortal life ruiner yet? She needed to show him a better way. If only she had Hermione here with her, that clever girl would have known what to do.

  
  


Riddle brought Ginny to the furthest corner of the very deserted library. It was dim and gloomy in their hidden corner, but they were surrounded by books on defeating the dark arts, which Ginny found secretly amusing.

They started out working in silence. Occasionally Ginny would glance up at the studious boy who was pouring over a large, old-looking tome. He was so engrossed in his reading, that Riddle was completely unaware of Ginny watching him. His mouth was slightly ajar as his eyes seemed to race over the words. There was a fiery look on his face as he absorbed the information. Knowledge fueled him and too much of the dark kind would ruin him. She grimaced and tried to start on her Transfiguration essay. 

Ginny got through writing the first paragraph when she decided to look up again. How was she going to tell him not to make any Horcruxes and to stop killing people? Getting him to bond with her on this sort of level was a start, at least. Ginny was just as surprised as everyone else by the fact that he was so receptive of her. It made her wary of ulterior motives. A stupid idea came to mind. Maybe she could get him genuinely interested in her. What would turn on an evil future Dark Lord? Ginny instantly thought of someone like Bellatrix Lestrange and scowled. No. There was no way in hell that Ginny would act anything like that psychopath.

Riddle looked up just then, catching Ginny in the act of staring. She flushed crimson and moved her gaze back down to her paper. It seemed quite unfair that Tom Riddle be so attractive. There was no denying that the bloke was definitely nice to look at. She had thought so upon meeting him in her first year as well, though  _ that _ Riddle much more foul than this one. Ginny assumed that was just part of how the Horcrux worked.

“Pyrites,” Riddle called out her name as he closed the massive book with a definitive thud.

“Yeah?” she looked up from her halfway completed essay. It wasn't very good. Dumbledore would certainly be docking her points. It was supposed to be on the strengths and weaknesses of appearance transfiguration spells. 

Riddle pushed the tome to the side and rested his arms on the table, “I was wondering if you had thought anymore regarding scouring the rubble of your old home.”

“Oh,” Ginny stammered weakly. The answer was no, she hadn't thought about it all because A). it wasn't really her home and B). it was likely being used or watched by Alwyn Pyrites.

“I am sorry if I upset you,” Riddle said hurriedly, his voice soft and compassionate, as if he were talking to a child. “I just thought... Well, if I were you, I might want to find remnants of my childhood home. Photos or trinkets, if anything withstood the damages.”

Ginny exhaled slowly and set down her quill. Riddle was trying to figure out her worth to him. She clenched her fists on the table, “I'm not upset. It's just that...” She made a show of looking around the room, though the library was just as empty as when they arrived. 

“What is it?” Riddle pressed further, leaning across the table ever-so-slightly. 

“You probably don't know... it's been very hush-hush because there's no proof yet I guess. Though I don’t know if anyone will even look into it,” Ginny whispered across the table. “My uncle disappeared after he graduated from Hogwarts. I never met him and my dad rarely spoke of him. I guess everyone assumed he was dead, like my other uncle. I was told that my uncle, the missing one, might have joined Grindelwald’s cause. My father and he didn't see quite eye-to-eye, I know that much. I really haven't the foggiest idea why he might have done it... but it's very likely he is the one who killed my family.” Ginny paused and looked down at her hands, hoping the spirits of the Pyrites’ would forgive her, “I doubt he expected me to survive the attack. I am afraid to go back, in case he might be there and wants to finish the job or something.”

Quietly processing the information, Riddle stared emotionlessly at Ginny. In a move that surprised her, Riddle reached across the table and took one of her clenched hands in his, “I am very sorry, Ginevra.” She balked at his use of her full first name. It sounded so strange coming from Riddle. “That's a horrible thing to learn. How was your uncle able to find you? If your house was under Fidelius, even if he had lived there before, he would never be able to see it unless the Secret Keeper told him.”

Ginny swallowed, trying not to enjoy the delicate circles his thumb was rubbing into her palm. “I think... my mother betrayed us,” Ginny whispered. “She was the Secret Keeper. That’s the only thing I can think of.”

“Merlin,” Riddle remarked under his breath. “I had no idea, though I suspected a Grindelwald attack. He is known for being aggressive in his recruitment tactics.”

“My uncle may have been trying to recruit. I'm not sure. I... can't remember much from that night,” Ginny told him, torn between wrenching her hand out of his mitts and encouraging him to never stop. It was so soothing. “I don't think it's safe for me to return there. I don't even know if I'm protected here at Hogwarts.”

“Understandable,” Riddle agreed, but he had a determined look on his face. “If you find yourself curious or brave enough to go back, I would offer my services as protection. I'm quite good at both defensive and offensive magic. I could take on a grown adult and win, I assure you. I would cover you and make sure your uncle cannot lay even a finger upon your person.” There was an odd fierceness in his tone, almost eerily so.

Ginny glanced down at their entwined hands, “Thank you. Maybe when we are free for the summer, you and I can go on an adventure and do a little snooping. You are so sweet, Riddle.”

“Anything for you,” he murmured huskily, in a way that would make most women melt. “Finish up your essay and then we can go on that walk.” He let go of her hand and stood up to put the large tome away.

Ginny’s hand felt lonely for a moment after he let go of her and a strange feeling settled in her gut.  _ Anything for you.  _ What on earth did he mean by that? She wanted to say it was too early for him to want to date her, but then she remembered how quickly her and Michael Corner had gotten together (not long after a dance at the Yule Ball), followed by her and Dean (right after Michael), and then her and Harry. Did she have the stomach pretend to date Tom Riddle and work her magic to try and keep him from becoming the most evil man in the country? 

  
  


Riddle brought her outside as promised, walking her along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He placed an arm around her shoulders as he talked about the forest in a way that reminded her of Hermione. He was as much of a know-it-all as Hermione, that was for sure. Riddle was an endless supply of useless Hogwarts trivia and had memorized much of its history. It was apparent that he really liked Hogwarts. It was more of a home to him than the orphanage had ever been.

As they moved toward the Quidditch pitch, Ginny brought up how she had wanted to try out for the Slytherin team. Riddle brought up his disinterest in the sport and remarked it was better that Ginny wasn’t playing. Ginny defended Quidditch, talking about all of the times she had played in her backyard and how she wanted to be a Chaser. She fondly recalled the days when she used to steal her brothers’ brooms and practice flying when she was young and how they accepted her as they all got older. Of course, Ginny changed the word brothers to sisters when she told the story aloud. Riddle remained good-natured about her tangent, but seemed about as impressed with her desire to play as Nella had been.

“You sound like Nella,” Ginny whined, glaring up at Riddle from underneath his arm. “I bet I would be really good at it and the whole lot of you would be sitting there with your mouths open in awe!”

“With your spirit and enthusiasm, I think you could do just about anything. You are unlike the other girls here,” Riddle smirked down at her, his gaze was piercing, as if he were trying to read everything about her again.

Ginny frowned, “And what does that mean?”

Riddle looked ahead and for a moment, Ginny thought he might not answer her. “Well, you are not as overly feminine as the others or as worried about what you are wearing, nor desperately trying to bag a husband. You have confidence and a spark about you. Your eyes light up when you're excited and darken like coals when miffed. You are not afraid of being yourself, you’re not carefully crafting your every word. The others are very phony, always tittering and plotting things. It's probably because you were homeschooled and never needed to worry about the social hierarchy. Yet, somehow, you fit right in regardless. You’re mysterious and interesting to speak with on an intellectual level. I’m intrigued,” Riddle answered with what seemed to be the slightest of pink hues on his cheeks. Ginny was sure it was just a trick of the light.

“Gosh, Riddle,” Ginny smiled to herself. Even if he was pulling her leg, the compliments felt nice. “You know what to say to make a girl speechless. I feel even worse about the stupid mission the other week now. I swear, I wasn't the one plotting anything. It was all Nella's doing.”

“I know,” Riddle said simply, stopping to look up at the pitch. A few second year boys were flying around and passing a quaffle between them. He removed his arm from around her and slipped his hands into his pocket. “You are the only girl who has ever succeeded with me. I let my guard down thinking they wouldn't have dared to ask you on your first night there. It was easy to believe in your innocence. I was foolish to doubt their audacity.”

Ginny laughed and watched the quaffle go flying across the pitch and into a goal. She wanted to cheer them on, but knew it would ruin the moment. She returned her gaze to Riddle and found herself alarmed at what she saw. Why was he looking at her like that; like he wasn't quite sure what she was or how to handle her. Ginny made a face, “Well, I couldn't let them think I was a coward, could I? They said you were untouchable and that only made me more determined. I was worried that I upset you though. I understand it isn't polite to plop a snog down on a whim like that.” Why were they still talking about this? Why had she even mentioned it? Ginny wanted to run, run, run away.

“It's alright,” Riddle murmured. He moved closer to her and put a pair of fingers under her chin, right on her pale scar, and tilted her face upward, “I find myself very curious about you Ginevra Pyrites. I think... hmm, I think I'm pleased to have shared my first kiss with you. Even if it was by demand of Walburga and Lucretia Black, and their cohorts.”

Warning bells were going off in her head. This was a trap! This wasn't right! Riddle didn’t actually like her. He was sucking her in; flattering her and wooing her until she could give him an item of Ravenclaw’s that he could turn into a Horcrux. Her feet were planted firmly in the grass of the Quidditch pitch and Riddle was leaning down toward her face. It was too late. Her brain was screaming, “ _ FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!”  _ But, Tom Riddle’s eyes were slightly closed and there was nothing sinister about him at this moment. Acting was Riddle’s specialty, so Ginny tried not to make anything of it. Despite knowing that, she felt a bit of excited anxiousness nestle in her belly. Ginny closed her eyes and held her breath as the featherlight touch of his lips met hers. 

It was over almost instantly and before Ginny could say or do anything, a quaffle came flying straight at her. Distracted by Riddle, she shrieked as it slammed into her right bicep. Ginny winced and swore out loud, rubbing at her sore arm. The sheepish second years lowered their brooms to the ground, looking terrified at having hit an older student.

“Sorry!” the biggest one of the bunch called out. He dismounted and started to walk toward them, his eyes on the quaffle that had bounced off to the side of Ginny.

“You hit her!” Riddle snapped, taking a lengthy step toward the boy. “That was an abysmal apology for something that might have broken her arm.” He whirled around to face her, a maniacal gleam present in his eyes, “Are you alright, Ginevra?”

“Ugh, I think so,” Ginny massaged the stinging arm. It hurt like hell. She stepped forward to tell Riddle to leave the boys be, but he continued to walk briskly toward the larger boy with his wand out. Ginny cringed.

“It was an accident, it was an accident,” the boy’s eyes widened to saucers. He put his hands up and began to step backwards, walking away from the angry Riddle and toward the safety of his friends. “We didn’t meet to hit your lady. We’re sorry, we’re so sorry.”

Riddle sneered, aiming his wand at the quivering boy, “Filthy Mudblood. You think it's acceptable to hit someone like her and offer a pathetic apology? You didn't even ask if she was hurt.”

“I-I-I was going to!” the boy squeaked. One of his friends started to dismount as well, hesitating on whether or not he should defend his mate against the frightening Slytherin Prefect.

“Do not lie to me!” Riddle snarled in an almost animalistic way. “You were going to grab your quaffle and return to playing, weren’t you? Tell the truth, Mudblood!”

Ginny’s heart pounded. She had to stop him before he cursed the boy. The other kids were horrified, frozen in fear with their brooms in hand. The boy that had started to come to his friend’s aid was now standing still with wide eyes. She watched Riddle with his wand in the boy’s face and found her voice. Ginny narrowed her eyes and put her uninjured arm on Riddle’s shoulder, “Riddle! RIDDLE! It's okay, I'm fine, I accept their apology, okay? Are you listening to me? Hey! TOM!”

At the sound of his first name, Tom Riddle turned to face Ginny. It was clear that he was livid, but he seemed to have paused his tirade for the moment. Standing up straight, he waved a dismissive hand at the boys. “Filthy Mudbloods,” Riddle muttered angrily, running a hand through his dark hair. He was still clutching his wand. The heavy set boy took off running toward his friends, looking relieved.

“Riddle,” Ginny demanded his attention, still caressing her arm where she had been struck. A trip to the Hospital Wing would be in order for her, after she berated Tom of course. “You didn't need to threaten them like that. They were just playing. Accidents happen, I'll be okay. Bruised probably, but okay. You needn’t scare them on my behalf, or call them names.”

“That child doesn't know his place,” Riddle spat vehemently. His eyes were narrowed into slits. “You're better than him and--”

“I don't think I am better than anyone,” Ginny shook her head. “I might be Pureblood, but I don't think that makes someone better at magic. Muggleborns here are probably smarter than I am, since I was homeschooled and all.” 

“You have an ancient bloodline,” Riddle retorted incredulously. “People are fascinated by you because of your familial notoriety. You could forge a betrothal with any Pureblood here and they would agree in a heartbeat just because of your name. Your blood is legendary, extraordinary even. You are  _ better _ than them in every way. I’ve seen your spellwork, it’s impeccable for someone without proper schooling. It quite clearly comes naturally to you.”

Ginny felt her skin crawl. Riddle really believed in that rubbish. “I don't feel that way,” she shrugged, recoiling at the pain in her arm. “I'm just a regular old witch who might just happen to be Pureblood and carry an old family name. That's it. You're a Halfblood, aren't you Tom? I heard a couple people talking about it.”

Riddle’s eyes flashed threateningly, but Ginny continued, using her unharmed arm to grab Tom's hand. She squeezed it, “I don't care what blood status you are, I like you for you, Riddle. You're bloody brilliant and sweet. You know a lot of really strange facts about Hogwarts, but I think it’s rather adorable. You could be any blood status and I would feel the exact same. I'm alone in this world,” her voice shook at how true that rang. “I want people to like me for who I am, not because I'm a Pyrites. I would pick you over, say,  _ Mulciber  _ any day. He's Pureblood and available. Merlin only knows how often I've caught him staring. I guarantee he would date me, snog me, or marry me if I even merely hinted at it. But, I asked  _ you _ out, Tom. Not Mulciber. Not anyone else. I don't give a damn if Riddle is a Muggle name.” She hoped her speech got through to him. She wanted him to know that he was likeable the way he was. Much better than when he was a bald, evil tyrant who really wanted a teenage boy dead. Her heart trembled as she thought of Harry and how she was betraying him.

“You're foolish,” Riddle replied coolly. “Being Pureblood is a sign of importance and offers you more in life than being a Halfblood does. I had nothing because of my filthy Muggle father. My mother was a foolish woman... I could have had a proper life, I could have been someone important in this world as the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself! But this revolting, Muggle name haunts me and follows me wherever I go and it's all they judge me by.” He stiffened, realizing he might have said too much. “Sorry, please forgive me.” Riddle backed away from her.

“Tom, don't go,” Ginny closed the gap and groaned at the pain in her arm. “I'm so sorry about your family, but you ought to make a name for yourself that proves your worth even as a Halfblood. I mean, come on! You're already in with a lot of the Purebloods, it seems fine to me. You realize though, that these Pureblood families probably started with a Muggleborn right? I've been paying attention to History of Magic, we all had to come from somewhere.” Ginny grabbed onto Riddle’s wrist to prevent him from walking away from her, “The definition of Pureblood is someone with no Muggle or Muggleborn grandparents. If, just for example, you and I had children, they would still be Halfblood because of your father, but  _ their _ children would be considered Pureblood if they married someone without much Muggle blood. How else are Pureblood lines made and maintained? We can't all keep wedding one another, that's vile and has some serious repercussions.”

Riddle remained blank and stony, but Ginny thought she could see the cogs turning in his head. Before he could find another thing to say about Pureblood superiority, she got on her tiptoes to throw her good arm around his neck and kissed him, hard. Ginny just wanted to prove her point, that his Muggle father meant nothing to her. Pulling away was impossible once she felt his light touch on her waist.

“You're out of your mind,” Riddle murmured coldly against her lips once he pulled away. “You have no idea how wrong you are. You're absolutely mental.”

“Would you have me any other way?” Ginny moved in to find his mouth once again, but Riddle held her at arm's length. She wanted that warmth and comfort. It frustrated her that he was holding her back.

“We should get that arm looked at,” Riddle let her go and took a step to the side. He cast a nasty look at the boys on the pitch, who had gone back to playing with the quaffle, but didn’t seem to be having as much fun.

Ginny bit her lip, but nodded in agreement. Her arm was hurting quite a bit. 

Riddle left her in the care of Madame Golightly and Ginny wondered if he would avoid her now. Had she said too much? Tried too hard? Did he think that she was completely out of her mind? He needed her still, for what he thought her family might have of Ravenclaw’s. She truly hoped at least something she'd said to him would stick. 

Madame Golightly fussed over her arm, rubbing a sour smelling ointment over the quickly-forming bruise. She tutted about the violence of Quidditch, while Ginny continued thinking about Tom Riddle. Ginny missed human contact and the feeling of being loved so much that she wished he would come back and hold her. She wanted comforting arms around her as she mourned the friends and family she would likely never see again. Even if it  _ was _ his future self’s fault. It was quite the conflict.

When Ginny was finally sent on her way, she walked glumly back to Slytherin. It was hard not to think about what her mum would say about all of this. She could almost hear the angry tone of voice, shrill and fiery. 

Ginny stood at the entrance to Slytherin for a moment, blanking on the password. Her mind was distracted, filled with too many things and a myriad of worries. One of them, that Ginny was hesitant to acknowledge, was the question of whether or not Tom would want to see her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are lovely. Seriously. <3.


	8. Chapter Seven

Not giving Ornella Greengrass details about what happened with Riddle was very difficult. Ginny sort of wanted to tell her, but she did not know where things stood between them. Riddle was, indeed, avoiding her although he continued to be polite. Ginny had been a little hurt when Tom hadn’t come back for her and Malfoy for Defense and then rushed out of the Potions classroom without her on Wednesday. ‘ _ Probably doesn't want to be caught in an empty stairwell with me,’ _ Ginny thought grumpily. 

By Friday, the 23rd of October, Ginny was determined not to let him run away from her after Potions. She would corner him one way or another and figure out if what had been discussed between them had ruined any chance Ginny might have had at getting close. It was bothering the hell out of her that she was chasing Tom Riddle for affection. It was for the fate of the world! Or at least, that's what Ginny kept telling herself.

  
  


Slughorn set the entire class loose on doing a hiccoughing solution that day, so Ginny set to work immediately. She had greeted Riddle cheerfully when her, Nella, and Ros arrived. While Riddle had replied in an equally cheerful tone, he was not very inclined to talk with her outside of that. Ginny didn't want him to finish his solution ahead of her, so she buckled down and lit her cauldron. 

Potions wasn't her best subject, but Ginny was pretty happy with the progress of her solution. It was only the slightest shade too light, but Slughorn had come by and mentioned it looking very close. She saw out of the corner of her eye that Riddle was at the same step she was, though his was perfect. As usual.

As the class came to an end and everyone was stoppering their solutions, Slughorn came by their table. He beamed at the both of them, leaning forward to peer at their work. His big belly almost bumped Ginny’s cauldron. “Brilliant work, you two. I love how diligently you both got this potion done today. I almost thought you two might be racing!” Professor Slughorn chuckled and lowered his voice so only Riddle and Ginny could hear him, “I'm having a Halloween party in my office, you two are both invited of course. I hope you both can make it. Oh, you may bring a date if you so choose. Costumes are encouraged!” 

Ginny couldn’t believe her luck. Sure, she hated the Slug Club events, but this was the golden opportunity she needed to get Riddle’s attention. She would be asking him to go with her, of course. Ginny practically threw her cauldron back in the cubby where the sixth years kept their stuff and started cramming her book into her bag. Riddle was just walking away from their desk, toward the door.

With his legs so much longer than hers, Ginny needed to speed walk to catch up. She caught him right as he ducked through the tapestry as the rest of the students began to trickle out behind them. She rushed through, almost toppling over in the narrow passageway.

“Riddle!” Ginny whispered as she straightened up. It would not have been prudent to attract attention from the other students at the moment, so Ginny kept her voice low. “Hang on a sec. You've been avoiding me.” Ginny stepped onto the first step and looked up at him. 

Riddle stopped moving for a moment, turning to face her with an empty expression. He pulled the strap of his worn bag higher up his shoulder, “I apologize. I have been preoccupied.” Riddle walked backwards up a couple steps. Getting away from her seemed like a top priority and that made Ginny glare at him.

Ginny matched him step for step, “Oh. Well, I just wanted to make sure we were okay. I know I said a lot of things last Saturday that might have made you upset with me.” The confined space of the hidden staircase made her feel a little claustrophobic with the awkwardness going on between them.

“We are fine,” Riddle retorted shortly. He took another step up and away from her.

She mimicked him, “Riddle, why are you running away from me?”

His expression clouded over and a fiercely angry look broke through the surface of his normally perfect mask, “I told you too much. I should erase your memory... you cannot know those things.” Riddle fumbled for the wand tucked into his robes, but Ginny was quick to put a hand over his in an attempt to stop him.

“Please don't,” she whispered, feeling just a bit frightened of the fact that he could easily overpower her, obliviate her, and leave her empty on these lesser known stairs. Ginny took a deep breath, “I am really happy you told me so much about you... and I don't want you to avoid me. None of what was said has changed my opinion of you in the last week, Tom. I still feel the same. Please don't erase my memory and don't run away from me. I wanted to know if you would be my date for Slughorn’s Halloween party. We don't have to wear matching costumes or anything.”

Tom Riddle stared at Ginny in that way he did when he seemed to be trying to search within her for answers. He let out a defeated sounding growl, “You're bloody serious, aren't you?”

“Extremely, “ Ginny replied dryly and let go of his wrist, trusting him not to obliviate her. “So, will you be my date?” 

The silence between them was thick was tension. She did her best to keep her footing and not run away from his intense stare. “I will not dress up in costume,” Riddle finally answered her. “At all.” He relaxed his wand hand, much to Ginny’s relief.

“I won't dress up either then,” Ginny smiled and wrapped her arms around his middle slowly. Riddle stiffened at her touch, his hands hanging limply at his sides. 

“We are going to be tardy for Charms,” Riddle reprimanded, putting his hands lightly on her shoulders to pry her off of him. The forced contact seemed to disturb him.

“I know,” Ginny sighed, relishing in the comfort of the one-sided hug. Merlin, she felt desperate clinging to the future Lord Voldemort. It was a pleasant feeling, though it would be better if he would hold her in return. Riddle pushed her off of him with success with time. Ginny sighed and looked up at him, meeting his hazel eyes. Riddle was uncertain and didn’t seem to like or trust what was happening. Ginny had an inkling that no one had ever held him before, nor had anyone been as daring to try as Ginny Weasley. Maybe this attempt would do nothing to quell the transition into evil, balding murderer, but Ginny clung to the hope that she was doing a little bit of good. All of his years being just another kid at an orphanage had really taken its toll. He needed someone to care for him.

“Charms now,” Riddle demanded, allowing his hand to ghost over the small of her back as they walked the rest of the way up the stairs together. As soon as they were in public again, Tom dropped his hand away from her. Ginny refused to budge and stayed close by his side as they entered class two minutes late. As expected, everyone stared and Ginny could see the conclusions being formed by the second.

  
  


Ginny and Nella both had dates to Slughorn’s party. Roslyn had not been invited, to which Ginny was bummed about. However, Roslyn was completely thrilled not to have been invited as she found their Head of House to be a repulsive individual. The girl was more than eager to help with hair and makeup for both of her friends though.

As Ginny promised Riddle, she would not dress up in any costumes, but that notion didn’t stop Roslyn from putting deep red lipstick on Ginny and lining her eyes in black. Tom had said he would be wearing some nice, but casual robes to the event so Ginny had put on a deep blue skirt and a matching blouse that dipped rather nicely into her cleavage. She let Ros put a velvet choker around her neck to add a little something to the outfit. The last item to go on was her ankle boots that had yet to be worn.

Nella and her date, a Pureblood Hufflepuff named Jarvan Vance, were dressing up as vampires together. Ginny had unfortunately been present for Vance’s embarrassing confession of admiration to Nella in front of the Great Hall and he finished by asking if she would be his date. Nella was very ecstatic and endlessly gushed over the boy for the last few days. It was starting to become very grating.

Roslyn had done a good job on Nella’s vampire makeup, Ginny noted. Fake blood had been drizzled down the side of a bright red lip and thick eyeliner rimmed her upper eyelid. Ros even went so far as to add a little purple eyeshadow underneath Nella’s eyes to give her a truly undead look. The last addition was the fangs. With her all black attire and silken, red cape, Nella certainly looked the part of stereotypical vampiress.

“Tell me about how horrible it is when you get back,” Roslyn laughed at the sight of Nella pretending to chomp Ginny’s neck, while Ginny silently screamed in jest. “I expect details, you two.”

“Of course!” Ginny and Nella sang together and headed down into the common room where Ginny would be meeting Tom. Nella and Jarvan were going to meet outside of Slughorn’s office, so the vampiress took off without Ginny.

Riddle was dressed nicely in a dark gray ensemble. It wasn’t very fancy and Ginny could tell it was secondhand, but it looked sharp on him. He seemed displeased by something as she approached him on the couch. She stood there for several long minutes without him even looking at her. 

Impatient, Ginny sat gingerly on the arm of the couch and leaned in to whisper seductively into his ear, “Hello Tom.”

Jumping off the couch in alarm, Riddle scowled when he realized it was her. He crossed his arm over his chest, “Don’t startle me like that.”

“I stood here for a while and you didn’t notice me,” Ginny argued, putting a hand on her hip as she slid off the arm of the couch. Ginny stared him down, not backing away from his glare. She finally broke the silence after a moment, “You look handsome, by the way.”

It was then that Riddle’s eyes seemed to take in Ginny’s appearance. The dark red lips caught his attention, she noticed, but then his gaze drifted lower and Ginny felt herself blush. Lord Voldemort checked her out! Another displeased look filled his face, “People are going to stare at you.”

“Is that your way of saying that I look nice?” Ginny teased him, flicking some of her thick red hair over a shoulder. “You ought to get better at complimenting me if we’re going to date, Riddle.” The second it came out of her mouth, she regretted it. They hadn’t discussed dating at all. There had only been one semi-date between them and a couple of shared kisses. That was pretty much nothing, wasn’t it? Though it seemed like a lot here in 1943. She cleared her throat and tried to change the subject, “I, uhm. Nevermind then?”

“You do look nice,” his voice was low and threatening. Riddle seemed to be contemplating what else to say, “I don’t want people looking at you like that.”

“Would you like me to grab a cloak?” Ginny asked slowly, raising an eyebrow. A little cleavage and the man ended up territorial? That was one hell of a backwards compliment. She felt a little smug about it. She really was doing a number to Voldemort if he was saying something like that. It was impressive, as she hadn’t been a student that long. They had been spending a fair bit of time together though. 

Riddle seemed to be fighting an inner battle with himself. Ginny could only imagine what it was. Should he tell her to get a cloak and stop being indecent? Or should he not give a damn about her? Riddle had never planned on caring for anyone. Having significant relationships had never been a part of his future. But, here was Ginny Weasley from the future to ruin everything. Riddle sighed and relaxed slightly, “No, it’s fine.”

So, he had opted to go with not giving a damn, Ginny noted. Caring about how much cleavage she was showing was too close to admitting he might feel even the slightest bit of something toward someone else. Riddle wanted to be hard, careless, and immortal. He had been possessive about the things he did care about, like his Horcruxes and how he wanted to change their world. Riddle was trying not to stray off the course he had plotted out for himself, Ginny was sure of it. That slight faltering seemed like a win in her eyes.

_ ‘A partial win,’ _ she told herself.  _ ‘I need to get him to really trust me. I need him to tell me about the Horcruxes.’ _

“If you’re sure,” Ginny replied and smiled sweetly at him. “Ready to go?”

Riddle made a strangled noise that Ginny took as a yes. Without asking or waiting for it to be offered, she took his arm. He was her date and she would be sure to act like it, whether Riddle wanted to pretend it was nothing or not. He didn’t say a thing as they walked toward Slughorn’s office. 

Not liking the silence, Ginny leaned her head on his arm, “So, what are Slughorn’s events like?” It seemed unlikely that his events were any more interesting in 1943 than they were when Ginny had attended. 

“Usually, a few big names show up, like Ministry people or celebrities,” Riddle explained with a stiff voice. “Slughorn likes to show us off to them. He offers a lot of food and drink, normally just wine. I don’t think the other teachers know he does that. I’m not sure that Headmaster Dippet would really approve of one of his staff giving wine to students.”

“Doesn’t sound very exciting,” Ginny replied. “Minus the wine, obviously.”

“Since it is Halloween, most everyone will be dressed in something ridiculous,” Riddle added, sounding quite disgusted about the thought of wearing costumes.

“What should we pretend we are?” Ginny asked jokingly. “If we’re asked. Should we say we’re an old, grumpy couple who doesn’t believe in Halloween?” She groaned inwardly at her second accidental hint about being a couple. Merlin, Riddle was going to find her clingy and insufferable if she didn’t stop.

“If you would like,” Riddle answered ambiguously. She scowled at how difficult he was being.

Slow, crooning music greeted the duo as they entered Slughorn’s large office. He had decorated it for Halloween, with pumpkins lined up on his desk and orange fairy lights hanging from the walls. A couple of spooky, life-sized skeletons had been charmed to dance in the corners of the room. On the long wall of the room, a large table had been set up with different treats and snacks. Several bottles of wine with glasses sat at different spots at the table. The tablecloth looked like a giant, glittering spiderweb. Ginny thought the whole thing was rather tacky.

Not wanting to be spotted by Slughorn just yet, Ginny and Tom meandered over to the table where Ginny immediately filled a glass of wine for Tom, then herself. She sipped on the wine and nibbled on a slice of fancy cheese. Riddle seemed very out of sorts this evening and Ginny wasn’t really liking it. It made things tricky. She attempted some small talk with him, but his answers were generic and disinterested. She downed her wine and filled up another glass, feeling like she might need an entire bottle to handle cranky Voldemort.

“Ginny!” Nella Greengrass suddenly screeched in her ear, tackling her from the side. “You’re hereee!”

“Nella! What is wrong with you?” Ginny retorted, tottering a little bit as the weight of her friend pushed her down. She really didn’t want to knock over the entire snack table. “Are you drunk?”

“Jarvan brought FIREWHISKEY!” Nella hissed into her ear. “We had some in the corner over there behind the skeleton. You should have some too!”

“I think I will stick with wine, Nella,” Ginny patted her friend on the back and took a sip of her second glass to prove her point. “Where is Jarvan?” Her and Tom hadn’t been that far behind Nella. It seemed odd that she was already drunk. Ginny wondered just how much Firewhiskey the girl had drunk and how quickly. 

“In the Men’s room,” Nella sighed deeply and then scanned the room with hands as makeshift binoculars. “Oh never mind, I see him! He’s back! Toodaloo!” She waved and clicked her fangs at Ginny before scampering off to her date.

Ginny groaned and shook her head, “Now, that’s pretty questionable. I’m not sure I’m liking this Jarvan fellow much if he’s getting her wasted on the first date. Not very gentlemanly of him.”

“It’s highly inappropriate to bring Firewhiskey to something like this,” Riddle muttered and stared angrily at Jarvan and Nella who were now swaying out of sync to the music together. “I should report him to Slughorn.”

“Oh, leave them be,” Ginny told him, not wanting to burst Nella’s bubble. The girl seemed to be having a good time. Firewhiskey on the first date was not particularly charming, but Ginny would be talking to Nella about that later. “They will probably wander off and find a broom closet to shag in before the night’s through anyway.” She clamped her mouth shut, remember what year it was. People didn’t seem to do that in this time, or at least they were much more secretive about it. Just the act of kissing someone was a scandal here.

“What?” Riddle asked incredulously. “You are kidding, aren’t you?”

‘ _ Ever the prude,’ _ Ginny thought. She put a hand on Riddle’s arm, “Not everyone waits until marriage I hear. I hope Nella doesn’t do anything though, not with this bloke, but to each their own I suppose. I hope she remembers the contraceptive charm. Actually, I hope she knows it.” Ginny frowned at that. Was that something the girls readily knew here?

“How exactly do  _ you _ know this?” Riddle sounded quite suspicious and his tone was dark and dangerous again. Was that a hint of jealousy she detected?

Ginny looked up at him and smiled sweetly, “I have been listening to what these girls say, Riddle. It’s very interesting. I’m learning quite a lot from them.” The girls here weren’t actually that interesting, but she had heard a few things. Most things, she already knew from her own time.

“I think I’m concerned about what you’re learning,” Riddle grumbled under his breath. “And from whom.”

Giggling, Ginny peered at him over her wine glass. She was feeling bold and coy tonight. Pushing Riddle’s buttons was both risky and entertaining. He was so old-fashioned about everything. Taking another large gulp, Ginny set her cup down after she swallowed and wrapped her arms around Riddle’s neck. She pushed onto her tiptoes and whispered into his ear, “You might like the things I’m learning.”

Riddle went completely rigid and his arms remained at his side. He didn’t touch her, didn’t move, or say anything. His breathing was heavy, she could feel his chest rising and falling. She had made him angry. Ginny let go of him and looked down at the floor. Weren’t blokes supposed to like it when a girl said things like that? Merlin, the times really were different or Riddle was completely under the impression he would never be with a woman.

Ginny let him bask in the silence for a moment before taking his hand in hers, “Tom? Are you angry with me?”

“No,” Riddle took the tiniest drink of his wine and then stared at the deep red liquid. “It’s not very ladylike to speak like that.”

“I suppose not,” Ginny replied, but she didn’t feel ashamed about it. Maybe she was pushing him too hard. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what I’m doing, you know? I see and hear what the other girls do with their relationships and I have to guess.” And, there was a third reference. Could she be any more foolish?

Riddle sighed and set his glass down, hardly touched. He held out a hand for Ginny to take, “We should pay our respects to Slughorn before we seem like rude guests.”

What was supposed to be a quick word of appreciation in regards to their invitation to the event turned into an hour long Slughorn chat. He seemed completely mind-boggled by Ginny and Tom arriving together and wouldn’t stop staring at their entwined hands. No matter how many times they tried to escape, Slughorn always had someone new to introduce to them or something else to compliment them on. Riddle was handling the encounter better than Ginny was. She was bored and desperately needed another glass of wine. If she had to hear Slughorn call her “sweet girl” another time, Ginny thought she might throw the empty glass at him.

“I certainly must say, you two are a stunning couple,” Slughorn prattled on excitedly as he wrapped up a story about a famous ballerina he knew. “The girls always chase Riddle around here, but he’s always been too caught up in his studies. I’m quite glad to see you loosening up, my boy.”

Riddle gave Slughorn his faux smile and gave off the illusion of being bashful, “I suppose one just needs to meet the right person, sir.”

Ginny knew better than to feel anything about that statement. He had been too harsh this evening, too unfriendly. His changing moods and feelings towards her were getting a little annoying. Always guessing whether or not he was faking everything was also irritating. Ginny didn’t want to admit it, but she was starting to enjoy being around him more than she should be. It was easy to blame loneliness. She had friends here, but it wasn’t the same. Ginny couldn’t even tell Nella and Ros anything about her real life.

“Of course, of course! And you two are absolutely  _ perfect _ ,” Slughorn patted Riddle’s shoulder fondly. “I suppose I should let you both go and enjoy the party. I do have other guests I should speak with before the night is over.”

“Indeed,” Riddle replied smoothly. “Thank you for the excellent evening, Professor.” 

He led Ginny away from Slughorn, toward a pair of chairs at a table draped in spider web cloth. Thankfully, that table had a half-full bottle of wine on it that Ginny promptly grabbed to fill up her glass. She did not miss the weary look Riddle was giving her. 

“Merlin, I thought I was going to die of boredom if he didn’t shut up,” Ginny groaned and twirled the stem of her wine glass between her thumb and middle finger. “It’s nice of him to throw these parties and all, but he goes on and on and on.”

“He knows a lot of people,” Riddle shrugged, glancing around at the other guests in attendance.

“I am well aware,” Ginny rolled her eyes and savoured her drink. “Did you want to go mingle with some of your friends? I see Lestrange, Avery, and Malfoy at the snack table looking about as bored as we are. What on earth is Avery dressed as? Is that a rabbit?”

“I’m fine here,” Riddle replied, still scanning the room. “Shouldn’t you stop drinking?”

“It’s good though,” Ginny protested and finished her glass. “Just one more, maybe?” 

“As you like,” he murmured dismissively, staring off into the distance. 

Jaw set and face blank, Ginny had a feeling that something else had happened earlier that day other than Ginny bothering him. She wondered what it was as she poured herself a final glass of wine. Mulciber’s conversation with the Hufflepuff boy, MacMillan popped into her head and Ginny wondered if MacMillan had gotten a response that Riddle wasn’t happy about. She pondered a way to hint at it without making it seem like she knew something. Ginny stared at the lipstick stain on her glass, wondering how she could either get Riddle in a better mood or figure out what was bothering him. Preferably both.

As if he had heard Ginny thinking about him, Mulciber appeared before them, dressed in some strange sort of robes with silver and red patterns on them. She thought about asking what he was dressed up as, but decided not to bother. The look on his face said that he was about as cheerful as Riddle. His eyes barely grazed over Ginny and he did not offer her a greeting.

“What?” Riddle demanded angrily. 

Mulciber wrung his hands nervously, closing and opening his mouth, “I, er, had something to tell you.”

Riddle narrowed his eyes at the burly boy, “Is it important?”

“I, er, guess not that important,” Mulciber replied shakily. “But I--”

“Ginevra,” Riddle interrupted Mulciber and turned his attention toward her. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

“Sure,” Ginny said slowly, staring at the two boys. She watched as they left the room together and considered finding a way to eavesdrop. Before she could do anything, Abraxas Malfoy appeared in front of her. She noted that he was not dressed in a Halloween costume either. “Hello Malfoy,” Ginny greeted him, a bit confused by his sudden decision to come talk to her.

“I see your date has abandoned you. May I have this dance?” Malfoy smirked at her in such a way that reminded her of Draco. It took a lot of effort not to slap him. Ginny finished her wine and stood up, wincing as the alcohol rushed to her head. Perhaps, the fourth glass was a poor choice. This stuff was much more potent than what the Black girls procured for the Haunt evenings.

Her face felt warm as she took his extended hand, “Absolutely.”

Malfoy led her to the area reserved for dancing and placed one hand on her waist, and held her hand tightly in his other. He seemed rather pleased with himself as he guided her into a slow song, “Where did your boyfriend go?”

“Out for a moment,” Ginny replied. She paused and hastily added, “He isn’t my boyfriend either. We’re just friends.”

“Really?” he chose that moment to twirl her, bringing her back in close to him. Ginny was surprised by his excellent moves. She stumbled slightly and blamed the wine.

Ginny nodded, “Yes, really. What does it matter to you?”

“Are you interested in him?” Malfoy asked nonchalantly as they continued to dance.

“I’m not sure that’s your business, Malfoy,” Ginny retorted coolly. “What is your purpose for asking me such personal questions?”

Malfoy glanced at the doorway before lowering his voice, “Riddle is a strange person. He can make people do things for him. He uses them. He’s capable of doing very dark things. You’re on his radar and I don’t know what he wants with you. At our last meeting, he told us we are not allowed to harm a hair on your head without his word. There’s something he needs you for and I’m not sure what it is exactly. You’re a nice girl, and you seem to be involved with him. I thought you ought to know what you might be getting yourself into.”

Ginny felt a chill run down her spine. It wasn’t as if she didn’t already suspect some of those things already, but the idea of Voldemort telling his followers not to touch her was a bit distressing. More and more, Ginny was certain he would toss her aside once she confirmed that her bogus family did not have any relics of Ravenclaw’s to offer him. She glanced up at Malfoy, trying to gauge how much information he would end up relaying to Riddle. Though Malfoy seemed not to like Riddle much, Ginny didn’t want to say anything that might ruin what she was working toward. She pressed him further, “You can’t harm me? What does that mean? Why would any of you want to hurt me?”

The pale, slender face of Abraxas Malfoy took on a horrified expression. He must not have meant to give her that much information. He shook his head, “It’s better you don’t ask, alright? It’s for your safety.”

“Why do you care?” Ginny asked curiously. “We aren’t very good friends, you and I.”

“You already went through one tragedy,” he whirled her around so that he was facing the door again. “There’s no need for a second one. Your family and mine once got on great together. There are several of your ancestors on my family tree through marriage. Also, I find little to complain about when you and I have mingled, Pyrites. It’s been very noticeable how much time you two spend together and I must have some noble bone in my body that doesn’t want to just sit on the sidelines and watch him take you down.”

This time, Ginny shuddered hard enough for Malfoy to feel it. He pulled her closer to him. Her mission to change Tom Riddle, to show him to care for someone felt futile now. Even the slight glimmers of hope she had tried to see in Riddle were fabricated. There was not a single part of him that had the capability to actually give a damn about her. Why betray Harry for this?! She grit her teeth, “Warning heeded. Now that I know he has no actual interest in me and I’m wasting my time, is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“On the contrary, I think he actually is infatuated with you. I’m not sure he understands it. Riddle seems incapable of real human emotions. He’s like a shell of a person at times. He doesn’t seem to care about the things the rest of us care about. I don’t know what exactly he wants with you, but there’s clearly something there. Riddle told Mulciber not to even look your way anymore unless he wanted to be hexed blind.”

“Well that’s just confusing,” Ginny said exasperatedly. “You say he wants something from me, but you’ve no idea what. You also say he isn’t capable of real feelings, but he might be telling other blokes not to look at me? I’m lost, Malfoy. What am I supposed to do here?”

“You do what you want, I just want you to be on your toes. Don’t let him hurt you, don’t let him take you down,” Malfoy explained. “Date him if it pleases you. Just know that he has something else in mind beyond that.”

“Sounds ominous. Alright, I’ll keep an eye out for daggers in my back,” Ginny sighed deeply, feeling disgruntled. This night was not going as planned. It was sorely tempting to get another glass of wine, but as she had told Riddle the fourth was her last, Ginny abstained. Besides, the four glasses were enough to make her feel a bit out of sorts.

Malfoy twirled her once more and when she returned to him, his hand slipped slightly lower down her hip, “You could do much better than him you know.” He opened his mouth to say more, but immediately froze. Hands were quickly dropped and removed from it’s precariously low spot on her waist. 

Ginny turned around to see Tom Riddle watching them as he stalked in from the doorway. It was hard to read the expression on his face. Malfoy was clearly nervous and expected trouble. Ginny frowned and whispered reassuringly to him, “It’s alright, I agreed to dance with you.”

“I see you borrowed my date,” Tom Riddle greeted Malfoy in a lilting tone that Ginny knew was dangerous. Riddle’s hand snaked out to pull Ginny toward him, “Thank you for keeping her company while I had business to attend to.”

“It was no problem,” Malfoy replied with all of the confidence in the world. “I thought she might be lonely sitting by herself at the table.” His blue-grey eyes found Ginny’s, “Thank you the dance. We will speak again later.” He inclined his head toward the couple and hurried off, dress robes billowing behind him.

“What did he say to you?” Riddle hissed at her as they exited the dance floor. She stumbled briefly on the rug, but caught her balance. Riddle’s grip on her tightened.

Ginny shrugged, “Not a whole lot.”

“I dislike vague answers,” Riddle said through a clenched jaw. “Might we step out a second to speak?” His eyes roamed the room. Ruining his precious reputation was not something Riddle intended to do. He did not want eyes on him when he was like this.

Ginny nodded and followed him out of Slughorn’s office. He brought her a bit further down the hallway where no one would disturb them. There was a manic gleam in Riddle’s eye and Ginny found herself slightly unnerved by it. Was this jealousy or something else entirely? All of the things Malfoy had disclosed were still rolling around in her head. Ginny didn’t know how to proceed with her own mission anymore. The pressure of creating a safe future weighed her down.

“We didn’t really talk about anything interesting,” Ginny tried to reassure him. “He asked me about Hogwarts, he asked me about you and I.”

“Be specific,” Riddle growled, leaning against the wall. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his robes and stared at a fixed point across the way. “You will tell me, Pyrites.”

Ginny gulped and tried to find a way to make both Riddle happy and keep Malfoy out of too much trouble, “He started off by saying that it was interesting to see you with me, because you’ve never bothered with anyone before.” She paused before allowing her fiery spirit combined with the wine take over. Fear would only fuel Lord Voldemort. It was time for some good old fashioned Weasley sass. Ginny put a hand on her hip and pointed at him accusingly, “He says you asked Mulciber not to look at me anymore. Malfoy was worried I might get hurt, because you’re so closed off from people. He didn’t want me, an innocent girl who lost her family, to suffer a second heartbreak. Malfoy said no one is allowed to harm a hair on my head, whatever  _ that _ means.” Ginny hadn’t meant to say the last part, but she was starting to get really fired up as she ranted at him. Her voice rose a few octaves, “I find it really frustrating to hear this sort of thing from him when I ought to be hearing it from you. You seem to, very grudgingly, agree to my dates and that’s fine. If you’re not interested and you’re just placating me then you can stop. But then, we have Slughorn making insinuations about our relationship and you don’t bother to correct him! You kissed  _ me _ on the Quidditch pitch, might I add. I thought I made it clear that I was interested in you, Riddle, but I’m not interested in just being strung along. I’m new here. I’ve not a clue what I am doing. Please don’t use me for some game or drag me along because you think I’m fragile. I’m not as delicate as everyone thinks I am. Maybe I’m entirely wrong, as I don’t always get what you’re thinking. You’re so cold sometimes, almost cruel. It worries me. But, then you’re really kind and polite sometimes too. You confuse and intrigue me both at once. I want to get to know you, the real you. Not this person that pretends to kiss Slughorn’s arse and scares Mulciber away from looking at someone.”

When Riddle said nothing, Ginny continued her tirade, “You already told me once that I could have just about any bloke in this school because of who I am. Something Malfoy said made me think that might be true. No, he didn’t make any offers, so don’t get mad at him. I already told you I chose you, Riddle. We might not work out in the end and that’s okay. I want to take things a day at a time, but I wish I knew what you wanted. I wish I knew how you truly felt.” Her voice got small toward the end and the realization of who she was giving this speech to clicked. Ginny wanted to groan. What was teenage Lord Voldemort doing to her? She leaned against the wall beside him, “Can you say something, please? If I’m being foolish I deserve to know so I can shamefully put myself to bed.”   
  


“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Riddle grumbled, putting his head in his hands. “I am not the relationship sort of a person. Never have I been some sort of  _ skirt chasing imbecile.  _ I have goals, I have plans, and there was no  _ companion  _ involved in them. Your name and history intrigued me, so I went out of my way to be polite. Instead of fawning over me like the rest of the simpering fools do, you treated me like you do everyone else. You did not question my surname. You have willingly divulged secrets to me. You kissed me, multiple times. The resolve and ferocity you show to the world is enticing. You are not a damsel in distress, you’re not waiting for someone to pick you out of a crowd and offer you marriage. I despise what you are doing to me. Yes, I told Mulciber not to look at you anymore. Why? I do not know, something about it bothered me beyond comprehension. In these two months, you have invaded my head and made me think about things I never considered to give a second thought to. I wanted to obliterate Malfoy for touching you like he did, which is ridiculous because this is not who I am. What are you, Ginevra Pyrites? How have you been able to waltz in here and make me think about things I had decided were not important in my life?”

There it was, the confession. Part of Ginny didn’t know if she could fully believe it. Voldemort could pretend to be anything, including a man infatuated and thoroughly puzzled by feelings. She had to accept some of it as truth, since him telling Mulciber off and his anger toward Malfoy appeared to be genuine. Ginny knew it was now or never. She needed to trust that Riddle was telling her at least a little of the truth within his statement. This was her chance to jump in the deep end and hope that she was making the right choice for the future.  _ ‘Forgive me, Harry. Forgive me, everyone,’ _ she thought to herself. Taking a deep breath, Ginny moved to stand in front of him, “Can we make it official then?”

Riddle looked up at her, his eyes trailing over her form. She shuddered as they lingered on her breasts and lips. There definitely was some truth in his words. No man pretending would look at her so hungrily. He pushed away from the wall and took one of her hands between both of his much larger ones, “Might I have the pleasure of calling you my... lady?”

She nearly snorted at how formal it was. Merlin, when Ginny had been with Michael Corner, all that had happened was Michael commenting about going together and that was it. Ginny bit her tongue to keep from laughing, “Of course you can.” 

Ginny moved in closer and put her arms around his middle. This time, Riddle placed his hands on her shoulders. He was still stiff and not receptive to her touches. She maneuvered her head so that she could look up at him. Tom was peering down at her too, with another unreadable expression. She rose up to her tippy-toes and pressed her lips to his. It was a fierce, needy kiss that he slowly and carefully returned. Ginny had been just about to work his mouth open for a deeper kiss when the sound of a throat clearing made her jump away.

Professor Slughorn was standing just outside his office, staring at the two of them and looking very uncomfortable with the situation. With his mouth ajar, Slughorn seemed uncertain what to say to the two of them, “Ah, yes... Well, the halls aren’t for necking, I’m afraid. It’s getting late. You two should come inside or return to Slytherin.”


	9. Chapter Eight

Word about their relationship spread like Fiendfyre, as was expected in a castle full of busy-bodies and gossip mongers.

Once Nella recovered from her slight hangover, Ginny had been hounded for information and details. Roslyn was just as curious. The three of them converged onto Nella’s bed and Ginny gave them the more simplified version of the night, leaving out a few details she did not want to spread. When the story concluded with Slughorn awkwardly telling the new couple to quit snogging in the hallway, both Ros and Nella erupted into endless giggles.

“Can’t you imagine the stupid look on his face as he stared at you two snogging?” Ros gasped through her raucous laughter.

Some of the other Slytherin’s had their own questions or comments. Like Walburga, who congratulated Ginny rather sarcastically on her engagement. Nearly screaming, Ginny informed Walburga that they were merely dating and it was absolutely, positively nothing serious. It was then she learned that  _ most _ Pureblood women did not date. Walburga left Ginny with a disdainful sniff and a remark about her less than Pureblood actions. Lucretia was less snippy about it, but did remind Ginny that no matter who she dated, Pureblood families might reach out to her for marriage contracts. Kassimira Twilfitt confronted Ginny and expressed her jealousy, but also wished her luck after questioning how Ginny had made Riddle cave. Ginny nearly snapped at her, but noticed how shaky and gaunt Twilfitt was so she refrained. She wondered what exactly Kassimira was ill with.

Malfoy approached Ginny in the common room a few days later. Briefly, he warned her once more to be on guard around Riddle. She asked about the meetings Riddle held, but Malfoy chose to keep mum about them. His secrecy made her frustrated. Before Malfoy walked away from her, Ginny requested that he tell her if anything was said or discussed about her at any future meetings. That seemed fair. Reluctantly, the blonde agreed to at least do that.

It had also been hard to miss the look of disappointment on John Mulciber’s face the first time he caught Ginny pecking Riddle’s cheek goodnight in the Common Room. He still didn’t talk to Ginny, but she did catch the occasional sidelong glance from him when Riddle wasn’t around or wasn’t paying attention. She thought he should be more careful, so he didn’t feel Riddle’s wrath by staring at her too much.

On Thursdays, Ginny had an hour between Transfiguration and Defense. She often spent that time with the girls, or with Riddle and some of his acquaintances. On the 11th of November, Dumbledore asked her to stay behind claiming he wanted to discuss a paper of hers.

Smiling apologetically to Riddle, she told him they would meet up in Defense. The look of mistrust shared between Riddle and Dumbledore was hard to miss. Ginny suspected she knew exactly what the future Headmaster wanted to say to her.

She approached his desk and waited in silence as the last student trickled out. Pulling her book bag further up her shoulder, Ginny said quietly, “You’re not really wanting to talk to me about an essay, are you?”

Dumbledore smiled sadly and shook his head at her, “No, but I will say that your work could be much better. Alas, that is a discussion for another day. I have caught wind of your, ah, liaison with Mr. Riddle and found it prudent to ask you if you were certain about taking things down this path.”

Ginny had been asking herself that question nearly every day. Many nights in bed, she mulled over her options and killing him seemed like the most drastic decision that Ginny would only do if there was no other way. In the meantime, Ginny was doing her best to show Tom Riddle the wonderful world of relationships, love, and comfort. It was hard to say whether or not it was working as it was still early. She did not doubt he still wanted to use her for something, but no matter how good of an actor Riddle was, Ginny could swear there was something at least moderately real happening between them. Nonetheless, it was necessary to remain on her guard.

“My only other option would be to kill him and I’m not a cold-blooded murderer, Professor Dumbledore,” Ginny said firmly. She stared into the blue eyes of the man she greatly respected. “That will be the very last resort.”

“Of course,” Dumbledore agreed. He clasped his hands together and rested them over his middle. “But, you know he is one, don’t you? Even in this time, I am certain he has killed at least one person.”

Blood ran cool beneath her veins. Ginny knew that Moaning Myrtle’s death was Riddle’s fault. There could have been others, but she was no expert on Voldemort’s life history. Harry had known much more, but chose not to share everything with her. It was now that Ginny sincerely wished he had. Hermione leaked a few things, but not enough. “He is the reason that girl was killed last year, I already know that. He opened the Chamber of Secrets. He is the heir of Slytherin,” Ginny whispered across the desk.

“So, he is a descendent of Salazar?” Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. He stroked his auburn beard thoughtfully. “That would make sense. I have considered researching his background... I know his mother was magical. It’s high time I figure out exactly who she was, I believe.”

“A Gaunt, I think,” Ginny recalled the name that Hermione mentioned. Dumbledore would have learned all of these things in the future anyway.

“I am familiar with that name,” Dumbledore said slowly. Ginny could see the gears working away in Dumbledore’s eyes. He was putting pieces of the puzzle together. “A nasty family. Riddle must have researched all he could about his mother’s side, to prove to himself and others that he was not a Muggleborn. Despite knowing that he has committed heinous crimes in the present and will commit more in the future, you still dare to tread these dangerous waters?”

“I have to try,” Ginny peered down at Dumbledore’s desk, taking in the sight of a strange golden instrument that was swinging around in erratic directions. “In the future, he knows no comfort, trusts no one, and is obsessed with immortality and power. He is already planning things now, dark things. If I could show him there was more to life than that... If I could make him see how wonderful it is to have  _ real _ friends, how beautiful love is... He might not ever become what he did.”

Dumbledore remained silent for a moment. The worried look on the older man’s face made Ginny start to panic. Maybe she was being foolish, but the fate of the world had been left to a seventeen year old time traveler. Dumbledore stood from his desk and faced her, “I commend your bravery. Truly, I do. You only have but this one chance and of course, I say do what you believe is right. You know the future better than I do. However... Miss Weasley, I met Riddle as a young boy and he was cruel back then too. I do not doubt that manipulative cruelty is being used even now on his followers. The moment he finds out what you are, what you plan to do... he will end your life.”

“I’m aware,” Ginny gripped the strap of her plain book bag tightly. “This Lord Voldemort is only sixteen. He is still young and the foundation for his plan is still being constructed. By the time he is in his seventies, he is a shell of a human. He was killed and kept alive by his Horcruxes. I am not an expert on them, but my friend Hermione once told me in confidence that a Horcrux was a part of his soul. I used one unintentionally, when I was eleven. A diary. I wrote in it and Tom wrote back. That Horcrux was meant to open the Chamber of Secrets again if it was ever brought back into Hogwarts. That diary sucked the life from me and I would have died had Harry Potter not saved me. I was  _ eleven _ , Professor. I just wanted a friend and Riddle was there, in that diary. I see him everyday and he is much like that, only less corrupt as his Horcrux. I don’t know if he has learned about them yet, but I think he is trying to or will soon.”

Dumbledore seemed to absorb all of the information. He understood more about a Horcrux than Ginny did, that was for sure. The way the older man’s blue eyes darkened told Ginny what she needed to know. It was imperative that she stop Riddle from finding out about them, or from making them.

“Yes, the Horcrux,” Dumbledore spoke up, his tone curious and hard. “That is an ancient, dark magic. Banned from all books here at Hogwarts. He must have found an outside source. Or... a professor told him.”

“How is a Horcrux made?” Ginny asked. Knowing how would be a start to stopping Riddle. 

“Murder,” Dumbledore informed her. “Something we both know the boy is capable of.”

Ginny felt a chill run down her spine, “Oh. Oh no, maybe I am wrong and he already knows about the Horcruxes then. The diary! He might have created it when Moaning Myrtle was killed. Shit! I mean, I’m sorry sir. I have to stop him before he creates anymore.” She thought about the gaudy ring he always wore and wondered if that might be the next. It was an item he held close to his person at all times.

“Riddle created more than one Horcrux?” Dumbledore stared at Ginny, visibly horrified. “Split his soul more than once? Once alone is bad enough. Fragmenting the soul so many times... Miss Weasley, he might not be capable of caring at this point. It might be too late.”

“Then I will have to end him, if I can’t stop him. I’ll have to destroy part of my own soul to off him,” Ginny stood up and glanced up at the clock. She needed to leave for class soon. “I will not let the future I came from come to be.”

Dumbledore nodded, but did not look convinced. Ginny knew he was worried and would now be researching Horcruxes and murders possibly connected to Tom Riddle. “Before I send you off to class,” Dumbledore started slowly. “Might I ask you a favour?”

“Sure.”

“I would like for you to show me the future,” Dumbledore told her. “Not everything. Just pieces you think might help me understand. I wish to assist you with your meddling.”

Ginny thought about that a moment. Sharing information with anyone could be dangerous. She had already said far too much to Dumbledore already. She met his piercing blue eyes and nodded. He was a valuable asset to her mission. Dumbledore had always been revered as a clever, intelligent, and powerful man. He might understand things better than she did. Her position was so precarious, it would be foolish to turn away his help. Ginny nodded, “I can show you some things.”

“Very well, thank you,” Dumbledore seemed relieved, as if he suspected she might not agree to it. “You ought to head to your next class. We will find time to meet in the upcoming months. And, please be careful.”

“I will sir,” Ginny reassured him as confidently as she could muster before bolting out of the room. There was usually a brief interval between the two classes that Ginny took advantage of. She arrived at her Defense class with a little bit of time to spare, snagging a seat next to Tom who looked at her curiously.

“I am rubbish at essays,” Ginny whispered with a heavy sigh. “Might have to let you start reading them over for me.” She forced a smile, but it was suddenly hard to look at Riddle. Had he made more than one Horcrux already? Who told him how to create them and what they were? 

She was distracted during class. It was a lecture day, so Ginny pretended to be taking notes while carefully rethinking her plans. No one told her when Riddle began making Horcruxes, she had automatically assumed it was near the end of school or after. But in his fifth year? Assuming she was right about Myrtle being used for the first one, then Ginny had a lot more work to do. Riddle’s soul was already fragmented. A huge step had already been taken, leading Tom away from humanity and toward the path of immortality. How would she convince him to destroy it? Or how could she do it herself without him knowing? The ring on his hand taunted her and Ginny couldn’t help but fear that was a Horcrux too. Who had died for that one? Her stomach churned as she tried to sort through her thoughts. Killing him seemed to far down the rabbit hole for Ginny’s liking. Murder was Riddle’s game, not Ginny’s. Self-defense was the only way she would end someone’s life and even those instances haunted her. She did not want to cause harm to her own soul. She didn’t want to be anything like Lord Voldemort. 

‘ _ I have to make him see the good parts of life,’ _ Ginny thought frantically.  _ ‘Now, before he goes any further off the deep end of dark magic. But how?’ _

On their way to lunch, Ginny was still lost in her thoughts. She didn’t hear Riddle trying to get her attention until he pulled her aside by the doors to the Great Hall and she was forced to look up into curious dark eyes.

“Are you feeling well?” Riddle placed a hand on her forehead, checking for some hint of illness. “You have been distracted since your talk with Dumbledore.”

Ginny shook her head and tried to smile, “It’s not his fault. I didn’t think I was doing so poorly is all. I’m a little embarrassed. Worried if any other teachers will have complaints. Being taught at home must have made me a moron.”

“You’re not a moron,” Riddle disagreed coolly. “You are quite intelligent in most areas, I would say. If you are having trouble with Transfiguration, I would be more than happy to tutor you and get you up to speed.”

“You wouldn’t let me fail?” Ginny tucked her loose red hair behind her ears. “That’s sweet of you, Tom.” She planted a kiss on his lower lip.

Riddle opened his mouth to say more, but his gaze shifted to someone approaching them. Ginny looked over as well, taking in the timid appearance of a Hufflepuff with long legs, arms, and big front teeth. She had dark hair that was parted into two plaits. She was staring at Ginny.

“Is there something you need?” Riddle used his perfect authoritative tone. He straightened up his vest and cloak.

“Uhm,” the girl placed her hands behind her back. Her dark eyes were staring at Ginny intently. “You’re Ginevra right?”

“I am,” Ginny replied. What could a gangly little Hufflepuff want with her?

“My name’s Ralessa Gamp,” the girl explained slowly. She appeared to be extremely uncomfortable. “Your mum was my father’s cousin. Making us cousins, sort of.” The dark-haired girl stared at the ground.

Ginny’s eyes went wide. There was a  _ second-cousin _ ? Why hadn’t Dumbledore told her this? Surely, one of the other Pureblood know-it-alls would have known as well. How had no one told her this? Ginny took a step forward, trying not to seem as shocked as she felt. “A relative? Merlin, I had no idea there were any left.”

The girl smiled weakly, “Daddy said you might not. He only met your eldest sister once, when she was a tiny baby before your father stopped letting your mum go out. Daddy read in the Daily Prophet that you survived. He was going to write to you himself, but decided to have me come talk to you instead. He and your mum weren’t terribly close, but they were the same age so they went to school together.”

“Wow,” Ginny glanced back at Tom, grasping for his hand to squeeze. “I didn’t know I had any family on that side. I’m happy to hear that, Ralessa.”

Ralessa smiled, showing off her big front teeth. It reminded Ginny of Hermione, before she had fixed her teeth. “That’s all I wanted to say. Maybe you can come meet my mum and dad sometime. I’m an only child.” 

“Definitely,” Ginny returned the smile, feeling ill at the thought. How the  _ hell _ had someone forgotten to tell her this important fact? Ralessa Gamp waved shyly and skipped off into the Great Hall with her braids swinging behind her.

Ginny turned to face Riddle, “Now I really feel awful, I had no idea I had any extended family.” She felt like crying. Things were becoming too complicated. How was she to keep masquerading as Guinevere Pyrites when there were parts of that life that Dumbledore had forgotten to tell her? Why wasn’t Ralessa on the family tree hidden away in Ginny’s trunk? Ginny fought back the overwhelming wave of emotion with all of the toughness she held within herself. She would _ not  _ be defeated. Giving up wasn’t an option. Time meddling was what she had been sent to do and, by Merlin and Morgana, Ginny would do it. 

Riddle remained where he stood, watching her intently. He was studying her face, watching Ginny attempt to control her emotions. “I guess you aren’t alone in the world now,” Riddle raised an eyebrow and let go of her hand.

“What?” Ginny croaked with surprise. She felt even more alone now. “How does this change anything? I don’t know them. You heard what Gamp said, our parents weren’t even that close. I can’t just waltz into their home and-- and-- force a relationship. Merlin, they might just be curious about the money I’ve inherited for all I know!”

“Of course that’s what they are interested in,” Riddle retorted, still watching her closely. “You really do not know a thing about the Gamp family do you? That girl’s father is practically a Squib. He works in a shop in Diagon Alley because he cannot get a job doing anything truly magical. The mother is a welcome witch at St. Mungos. For an old name, they have practically nothing. The Gamps used to be very, very wealthy, but over the years that money was squandered. Bad investments, useless trinkets, vacation homes across the world, gambling debts. Your mother was probably very lucky to be wed into the Pyrites’ family, as she undoubtedly had nothing to offer him. Your inheritance would help them out of their predicament. I guarantee that little girl is being forced by her father to befriend you, welcome you, and then he will rob you for all you have.”

It was hard not to take what Riddle said to heart. If what he said was true about Ralessa Gamp and her parents, then it would make perfect sense for them to suddenly be curious about her this far into the school year. Where was their grief right away? Why didn't they step forward when Ginny was announced to have lived? The situation was uncomfortable. Ginny wasn't supposed to know them or have family. 

“I'm glad you are coming to that conclusion,” Riddle continued, almost gleefully. “Your naivete and willingness to trust people will be your downfall. I expected you to let them wrap you around their fingers.” He put a hand on her shoulder, “I would have been displeased to see them use you, Ginevra.”

Ginny was seething. She was pissed off with Dumbledore, with the Gamps, with McGonagall for sending her here, and a bit with Riddle for being right for once. She sighed, “We should eat. I need some food to get my mind off of this.”

She glowered over a turkey sandwich, thinking about the chaos that was her life. For the millionth time, Ginny Weasley asked herself how the hell she was going to fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are so lovely, have two chapters tonight :)


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has sexual content! You have been warned!

Time trickled on towards the Christmas holiday and Ginny felt like she was actually making a little progress. 

She managed to get Tom to attend the Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw Quidditch match, the first Slytherin game of the year. Ginny hooted and hollered, expressing deep remorse at not trying out for the team. Merlin, did she miss flying and the thrill of the sport. Riddle had brought a book with him and spent most of the game reading it. Ginny was just glad he had come out to the pitch with her instead of hiding away in the library like he normally did. He even glanced up a time or two when Ginny belted out an excited cheer.

Disappointed when Ravenclaw just barely won the match, Ginny complained to Tom about the lack of foul calls on Ravenclaw’s star beater. She ranted on and on about the unfairness and Tom listened quietly, offering little commentary, but enough to prove he was actually hearing her words. As they started to make their way down to the Common Room, Riddle surprised her and pulled Ginny off to the side. He pressed her up against a wall and kissed her hard. They spent several long moments like that with Ginny still fired up from the Quidditch match and her hands messing up his normally tidy hair. Riddle kept his own grip tight on her waist, not moving or exploring as Ginny was. One of her hands slipped down his chest slowly, but as she reached his rib cage, Riddle snatched the wandering hand and pulled away from her.

“Such a tease,” Ginny complained, grinning. Riddle was too much of a gentleman sometimes. She snuck a last kiss onto his jawline and started walking back to the Common Room with Riddle just behind her.

Their moments were always like that. Ginny found it bothersome and a little worrying. She liked snogging, definitely, but there was something exciting about fooling around and exploring with another person. She had never been shy about those sorts of things with previous lovers, but Tom Riddle seemed to think her curiosity was unbecoming. He would never say too much, just pull away once Ginny’s hands strayed. After Charms the week before the Christmas holiday, Ginny managed to sneak back into the hidden stairwell with him and attempted to guide Riddle’s grip elsewhere other than her hip. Failing to be sneaky, Ginny slowly moved one of his hands upwards, but Riddle had frozen and ended their little rendezvous in the stairwell. Ginny never heard of a bloke being such a prude before. Riddle even refused to discuss the matter with her, leaving Ginny a little wounded. 

The last day of classes before the majority went home for the holidays proved to be an eventful one. Owls arrived in the morning, dropping parcels and letters to the students and staff. Ginny never got anything, so she didn’t pay it any mind. Riddle received the  _ Daily Prophet _ each morning and would read it intently, filling Ginny in on the goings on at the Ministry or with Grindelwald. Everything was normal until someone at the Ravenclaw table started shrieking. 

Startled, Ginny dropped her buttery toast and turned to see what was happening. Ravenclaws were flocking to the side of Rebecca Bennett-Scheinfield, a sixth year girl Ginny knew from a handful of classes. The two had not spoken much, but Ginny thought the curly-haired girl was very sweet. They had partnered up in Herbology a few weeks prior. Rebecca was currently sobbing into the arms of a bespectacled friend.

“What happened?” Ginny asked worriedly, watching as some of the staff descended from the dais to address the situation. Professor Mizuno and Professor Dumbledore both coaxed Rebecca away from her friend and led her out of the room swiftly, leaving behind a whirlwind of whispers and confusion.

Riddle was reading the paper. He glanced up at Ginny and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “She's got a Muggle father. He's Jewish.”

“So?” Ginny asked, trying to recall something about Muggle history. She never had taken Muggle Studies, something she probably should have done. Hermione had always been there to inform her about Muggle things and Ginny’s father knew some Muggle factoids as well. “Is he okay?”

Riddle stared at her a moment in surprise before sighing, “I forget you were homeschooled sometimes. Occasionally the Prophet updates us on what is going on in the Muggle world. I usually see more of it when I return to the orphanage in the summers. You haven't heard of Adolf Hitler then?”

The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Ginny knew it was something awful. “I think I have. He's a bad Muggle?”

“He and his Nazi army have murdered a lot of Jewish so far. There’s a war going on in the Muggle world,” Riddle explained, keeping his voice low. “According to the Prophet, a bunch more of the Jewish people were lost a couple days ago. Bennett-Scheinfield’s father was likely one of them. He was a German-Jew, her mother is a Pureblood, English witch. They never married, which was another reason the mother was ostracized from her Pureblood family. I have heard that Bennett-Scheinfield used to visit with her father on occasion. The Prophet states more Jewish citizens were rounded up and taken to concentration camps. There was some sort of accident, though no one is truly dense enough to think it really was an accident, and a lot were killed.”

Ginny took a moment to take that information in. The Muggle world had its own Lord Voldemort or Grindelwald to deal with in this time. Did these people influence Riddle to become what he would in the future? She felt bad for Rebecca. Losing loved ones because of ridiculous prejudices was rough. Ginny shook her head, “Just like Grindelwald. One wants to rid the world of Muggleborn, the other wants to off all of the Jewish.” She remembered Anthony Goldstein, a friend of Michael’s. He was Jewish, Pureblood, and an absolute hoot to be around. Ginny had always liked Anthony and kept on good terms with the bloke even after she stopped dating Michael.

“It isn't entirely the same,” Riddle replied, glancing down at the paper again. “There isn't anything wrong with being Jewish. It's just a religion. It is not right, nor does it make sense, to have non-magical families producing magical children. Muggles as a whole are horrible, as you can see from looking at Hitler and this war. Magical folk are a different kind entirely--”

“No,” Ginny interrupted loudly, catching the attention of some other Slytherins. “It's the same thing. Muggleborns can't help being what they are. They're born that way. They aren't stealing magic. They aren't any worse than you or I. They are just people with a connection to both worlds.” She glared at him defiantly.

“....if you say so,” Riddle said dismissively, but Ginny saw a gleam of something manic in his eyes. “Don't be angry with me, dear. You know my experiences with the Muggles have all been unpleasant. They are not good people. I assure you of that. It is unfortunate to hear about what may have happened to Bennett-Scheinfield’s father though, Muggle or not. The Muggle world is a gruesome place as of late.”

_ Dear _ ? Ginny didn't know whether to scream or laugh. He didn’t sound like he cared terribly much about the Muggle situation. She doubted this bloke gave a single damn about Rebecca Bennett-Scheinfield. Ginny needed to show him that Muggles were not all bad. She grumbled and poured herself more juice. “You're wrong, Tom Riddle.”

He merely raised an eyebrow at her before returning to read his paper.

  
  


Nearly everyone returned home for the holidays in the 1940s. Ginny and Tom were two of five students who stayed behind. In the future, most would go home, but the few times Ginny had stayed behind there were at least a dozen or so others. It felt incredibly quiet in the castle and she was quick to tell that to Riddle on that first, silent morning during breakfast.

“It's nice, isn't it?” Riddle sounded a bit more cheerful than normal. “No obnoxious students running through the halls, shrieking their heads off.”

Ginny snorted, “Merlin help you if you ever have children.”

Riddle looked up at her sharply, setting down the newspaper, “I won't be having them.”

“Why not?” Ginny expected that sort of answer from Riddle. It was hard to picture Lord Voldemort bouncing babes on his knee or rocking them to sleep. Still, Ginny couldn’t resist thinking about how handsome Riddle’s kids would be if he had chosen to. Maybe, he wouldn’t have been such a miserable arse if he had some babies of his own to love. 

“I am not interested in children. The life of fatherhood and husbandry has not been factored into the future I am building for myself,” he quipped curtly, not meeting her eyes. Riddle grabbed the paper again and flipped it to a random page.

“Ouch,” Ginny replied, though her feelings weren't hurt terribly. Still, she had to ask. Anything to get Riddle thinking deeper. “What am I then? Just some fun until you finish school and go off to do great things? Very romantic, Riddle, really. No wonder you won't even touch me. You don't want to like it and bugger up your grand plans.” Sounding so bitter had been an accident, but Ginny didn't correct herself or apologize for it.

Riddle sighed deeply, but did not look up from the Prophet, “Don't be like that, Ginevra. Having a relationship with you wasn't in the plan either. I am not promising you anything. My life’s goals are far more important than you are and I am not sorry about that.”

Ginny scowled. She needed to change those goals, and quickly. Angrily, she speared her sausage with a fork. She also needed to convince him to stop calling her Ginevra. Thus far, he continually insisted that Ginny was a child’s name and he would call his girlfriend by her proper name. 

“Don't be upset with me,” Riddle murmured softly, reaching out to touch her cheek. “You are already ruining me, you know. I thought we might enjoy the quiet in front of fire in the Common Room together after breakfast.”

Closing her eyes, Ginny grit her teeth. Ruining him? Really? If anything, she was making changes so small they meant practically nothing. Picking a fight would only make things worse though. She took a moment to count to ten in her head, calming herself down. If Riddle really thought she was changing him in any way, Ginny needed to run with it. Besides, snuggling up in front of the fire did sound cozy. They were the only two Slytherin's left at school. 

On their way back to the Common Room, Tom informed Ginny about what he normally did at school during this time. Ginny couldn’t believe how much of a nerd Voldemort was. Nor could she believe there were still more books for him to go through. He was so meticulous and organized about everything. He also knew a lot about the school, as Riddle liked to explore during the peaceful days when everyone was gone. It made her chuckle.

The empty room was inviting and warm, though the silence was a little unnerving. Ginny flopped ungracefully onto the couch and patted the area next to her, “Come cuddle up, Tom.”

Riddle sat down beside her, but left a small bit of space between them. Ginny rolled her eyes and scooted closer, resting her head on his shoulder, “You're not good at this cuddling thing, you know. I thought you were supposed to be good at everything!”

It took a moment, but Riddle lifted his arm and allowed for Ginny to snuggle up beside him. He loosely draped the arm around her shoulders and stared into the fire, “Why don't you tell me about your family, Ginevra? You never talk about them, though I suppose I understand why.”

Because it was painful and made Ginny feel like a horrible, despicable person for using the Pyrites family as her own. Not that she could answer him like that. She also stared into the fire, thinking about her brothers and parents. The Burrow was the best place to be for Christmas. While Molly and Arthur couldn’t afford amazing gifts, Ginny always appreciated the homemade things their mum gave every year. 

She would have done anything for another jumper with a G for Ginny on it right now.

“I'm not sure what to tell you,” Ginny’s voice cracked slightly. She couldn’t tell the truth. All she could do was take real memories and twist them into something that would fit the Pyrites.

“Anything you feel comfortable telling me.”

Ginny thought a moment, then smiled. She glanced up at Tom, “Well, as the youngest, I used to sneak out into the backyard after everyone was asleep and fly their brooms. My eldest sister had the best one. They would play three on three games without me. I wanted to be better than them, so I would stay up late and fly. One of my sisters caught me once. I thought she would reprimand me or tattle, but she didn't. We flew together that night.” She fondly remembered Charlie taking her up high into the sky. He had just finished school at that time. Ginny had been so young, probably about nine years old.

“There's where your interest in Quidditch came from,” Tom remarked with one of his peculiar half-smiles. “What else?”

“I used to bake with my mum,” Ginny reminisced sadly. “I was never very good. I would pour too much sugar in the mixture or spill the milk, but she always let me help anyway. I would watch my siblings play wizard's chess. We would fight, make up, prank each other, and fight again. One time, I got really sick and I could not stop puking my guts out. I must have been about ten or so, I think? My dad stayed up with me the whole night, even though he had to work the next morning. If I didn't make it to the bathroom, he cleaned it up for me without complaining. One of my sisters liked to get creative with her pranks. She would have been an inventor, I think. There was one time when all of our chairs wouldn't stop making fart noises. It was driving my mother mad! She couldn’t get it to stop, the spell was too strong.” She laughed, feeling a tug of loss on her heart. Merlin, Ginny wished she could go home.

Riddle rubbed her shoulder lightly, “You must miss them.”

“I do. Very much,” Ginny whispered, staring intently at the fire. She felt like crying. Not in front of Riddle, she wouldn't. 

“You are very strong,” Riddle complimented her, tilting his head so that his lips were near her ear. Her head filled with his sultry voice. “I never see you cry about your losses. You never mope and mourn. I see the sadness in your eyes at times, but you refuse to break down. Others are weakened by their loss, but you’re emboldened by it and stronger for it. That is very commendable, Ginevra. It is something I admire about you.”

Ginny shivered as his breath tickled her ear, “You admire my hatred of crying and dramatics? Thank you, Tom. That's sweet. You know, most boyfriends are supposed to tell their lady how pretty they are, not compliment their lack of tears and tantrums.” She snickered. Ginny enjoyed teasing Riddle. His reactions were always so interesting. 

“I believe I once told you that I found you different from other girls,” Riddle said, his lips nearly grazing her ear now. “You are already aware I find you attractive, but your strength and boldness make you shine brightest.” He kissed her lobe, then her neck. “The best compliments are the ones about your insides, rather than your out. I'm sure you agree?”

“Yes,” Ginny’s voice was hoarse and her eyes fluttered shut as Riddle left soft kisses on her neck. A teasing comment lingered on the tip of her tongue, but Ginny soon forgot it when Riddle put a finger under her chin, right on her scar, bringing her lips to his. 

One of his hands raked through her long hair, while the other held her face. Ginny nibbled on his lower lip and urged his mouth open so their tongues could meet. Riddle was sloppy when it came to making out, but was steadily approving. The thought of Voldemort being bad at snogging had been a riot at first, but she resolved to teach him. She leaned into him, shifting herself around for a more comfortable position. Tom surprised her when he gently bit down on her lower lip.

Without thinking twice, Ginny launched herself into his lap, straddling him. Riddle seemed startled, but Ginny gave him no time to react. She wound her hands into his hair. She trailed her nails down his neck, to the collar of his shirt where Ginny swiftly unbuttoned the first three buttons before Riddle grabbed her hands and stopped her. 

He pulled away from her mouth, breathing hard. Riddle’s hazel eyes were wide and unreadable, “Slughorn could come check on us at any time. He knows we are alone in Slytherin. We have already traumatized him once.”

“He won't,” Ginny replied breathlessly, hungrily eyeing Tom's lips again. “He won't want to deal with us, it's embarrassing for him. I’m sure he rolled his eyes the second he saw only our names on the list to stay behind. Slughorn won’t care, I promise.”

“Ginevra...” Riddle said firmly, still holding on tightly to her hands.

“Tom,” Ginny purred back, smirking at him. 

In one, swift move, Tom Riddle lifted Ginny up and set her back down on the couch beside him. While Riddle didn’t look angry, Ginny wasn’t sure. 

“Sorry,” she snipped irritably. “I just thought you might want to mess around while no one else was here. Might be inappropriate or whatever you say, but no one would know.” She missed intimate contact more than she wanted to admit. 

“You flatter me,” Tom responded flatly as he stared into the fire again. He shifted in a way that made Ginny wonder if he liked what happened. “But I am not worth throwing your virtue away.”

She refrained from groaning and rolling her eyes. Tom-freaking-Riddle being noble? Merlin’s fucking beard, this era was ridiculous. Ginny remembered what he said about his plans for the future and how relationships were not a part of it. She had an inkling that Riddle was trying not to get in too deep. “If you say so Riddle. I think you're plenty worth it, but I'll behave myself.” Ginny nestled back into his arm.

  
  


Waking up on Christmas morning only to realize she was alone in 1943 nearly made Ginny start bawling. She secretly hoped to hear her mum shouting up the stairs for Ginny to help with breakfast. Maybe even hearing the thunderous footsteps of Fred and George charging down the steps in excitement. But instead, Ginny was in the wrong house at Hogwarts all alone in a year she didn't belong in. And she would be spending Christmas Day with Tom Riddle.

It made her feel embarrassed to recall that she had given the young Dark Lord a Christmas gift. Nothing special, but Ginny listened to him prattle on about the Founders enough and how he read everything Hogwarts carried on them already, so Ginny had ordered the latest book about them and their history. She hoped Riddle liked it. 

There was a small pile of gifts on top of her trunk, which made Ginny grin. From Nella, Ros, Hilde, Mina, Walburga and Lucretia, and something small from Riddle. She started with the one from her boyfriend, curious what he would think to give her. 

Her gift was wrapped in grey paper, plain and uninteresting. She ripped the wrapping off in one try and stared curiously at the flat, white box. A little more carefully than she had dealt with the wrapping paper, Ginny pried the top off and blinked a few times at the simple necklace inside. The chain was silver and ordinary, but there was a flat, emerald green stone hanging from it. It did not look like anything fancy, but coming from Riddle? This was a lot. Ginny felt her skin crawl with goosebumps as she slipped the chain over her head. Voldemort, her boyfriend, had given her a necklace! Ginny must have been making some changes within him if he bothered to give her a gift.

Ginny blew through the rest of her gifts. Nella’s gift was a pretty, silky off-white dress with blue stripes on the long sleeves. Ros had given her a pair of scarves; one in red and one in silver as well as a pair of silver hoop earrings. There were chocolates from Hilde and an ornate butterfly hair clip from Mina Burke that Ginny liked quite a bit despite not being into things like that. The Black cousins had given Ginny a fancy looking broach that was honestly kind of hideous. Ginny wouldn’t be wearing that anytime soon. 

Still wearing Riddle’s gift, Ginny put on a knee-length black skirt, a grey and white scoop-necked blouse, and went without shoes down to the common room to look for her boyfriend. He was nowhere to be found. Ginny frowned and decided to check on the boys dormitories. If it were like her time, she would be able to get up the stairs no problem.

With a successful mission, Ginny found the sixth year boys dormitory and knocked loudly on the door. If Tom had gone to breakfast without her, she was going to be pretty miffed.

Riddle greeted her with a strange expression on his face when he opened the door. A sort of look that made Ginny’s stomach plummet and her heart skip a beat. Was he upset? She tried to piece together what might be going on in his head, but as usual, Tom was impossible to read.

“Happy Christmas!” Ginny cooed, smiling up at him. She touched her necklace, “Thanks for the present. It’s very pretty. Did you like what I got you?”

“I did,” Riddle’s voice was low and dark. “I... have wanted to read this for a while. You needn’t have spent so much on me.”

Ginny shrugged, “Oh whatever, Tom. It’s bloody Christmas and you’re my boyfriend. I couldn’t just give you socks or something. It had to be something you would really like and I just knew you would love that. Consider it a Christmas  _ and _ birthday gift then, yeah?”

It took a moment for him to respond. He was already dressed and impeccable in appearance, minus the odd look on his face. Riddle seemed to be bothered deeply by something, “Thank you.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked curiously.

“It’s the first Christmas gift I have received that was not something generic, like chocolates or Slytherin-coloured scarves,” Riddle admitted slowly. He met Ginny’s eyes and she was blown away by the smoldering gaze she found there. “It’s... silly, but you went out of your way to get something I would really enjoy.”

Ginny wanted to laugh in triumph. She had stunned Tom Riddle with her thoughtful gift! How absurd was that? Merlin, he really didn’t have friends. Ginny leapt into his arms, “Of course, Tom. I’m your girlfriend. I better know some of the things you like.”

Breakfast was quiet, though Professor Almasy and Professor Slughorn were having some sort of argument that Ginny couldn’t hear from where she was sitting. It was curious though as Ginny noted the displeased look on Dumbledore’s face as he watched the two of them squabble.

Much to Ginny’s chagrin, Riddle wanted to go to the library and begin reading his new book. Though she complained about it being Christmas, Ginny relented and brought some homework with her after making Riddle promise to play Gobstones with her later on. She wasn’t actually the biggest fan of Gobstones, but the idea of playing with Voldemort amused her.

Tom immediately dug into his book, engrossed in the new facts he would learn about the Hogwarts Founders. Ginny hoped she had done the right thing by giving him that book. She had not checked the information over, but it was unlikely he would learn anything he didn’t already know or suspect. She couldn’t help but grin when recalling how pleased he was with his gift. Ginny touched her new necklace and tried to work on her Transfiguration essay.

It took her a while to actually get started. Convincing herself to do homework on Christmas was pretty appalling, but eventually Ginny started writing and the words began flowing. Once, the cranky librarian walked by and scowled at them, but eventually wandered off and left them be. Ginny was about to start her third paragraph when she felt cool fingers on her knee.

Looking down, Ginny found Riddle’s hand moving up lightly to the area right above her knee. She glanced over at him, finding him still engrossed in the book. Taking the touch as his strange way of showing affection, Ginny went back to writing again.

A sentence into the new paragraph and Ginny felt the fingers tickle her skin, the hand moving up ever so slightly. Ginny stared at him curiously, wondering what Tom Riddle was doing, but he was still pouring over the book. She frowned and tried to focus. If he was teasing her, Merlin, would he get a piece of her mind.

Inch-by-inch, Riddle’s hand seemed to slowly move up her thigh. Ginny felt goosebumps ripple across her skin as she peered down at his hand. The dark skirt moved up with his hand, exposing a good chunk of Ginny’s legs. It was a good thing the librarian had left them alone. She swallowed, wondering what he was playing at. He wasn’t speaking, so Ginny kept quiet too. The essay lay before her, but Ginny didn’t touch it. She was busy watching the hand on her leg.

The shiver that ran through her was impossible to suppress when his long, soft fingers caressed the inside of her thigh. The nail of his index finger grazed upward and downward, tantalizing close to her groin.  _ ‘Merlin, the other day I was having trouble just getting him to let me sit on his lap,’ _ Ginny thought to herself as the fingers slid down her leg and back up again; slowly, carefully, and absolutely teasing. Ginny glowered at the purple-feathered quill in her hand, but kept her mouth shut.

His fingers reached the top of her thigh, moving slightly to the inner side and hesitated. Ginny held her breath, anticipating the next move. Riddle had to be teasing her and Ginny was going to strangle him. Goodbye, Dark Lord. Mission accomplished?

“You would let me, wouldn’t you?” Riddle whispered in shock, still staring at his book.

Ginny didn’t need clarification, “Yes.”

It took a minute, but Tom let one finger graze over the front of Ginny’s knickers. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, hoping with all of her might that she wouldn’t go straight to hell for this. What was wrong with her? Why did she  _ want _ him to touch her? This was Lord VOLDEMORT! Ginny opened her eyes and turned her head to face him. No, this was Tom Riddle, the nearly seventeen-year-old boy who looked genuinely terrified at the thought of touching a girl intimately. It was absolutely adorable. The way his lips were parted just slightly and brows furrowed in thought made Ginny smile. He was still a young boy. Sure, an evil one, but Ginny was starting to think that things weren’t completely hopeless. Maybe, there was room left in him to change.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Tom mustered up enough courage and threw his values out a window. The curious finger grazed over her again and Ginny bit her lip again. He was innocent and she wasn’t, but he expected her to be too. Ginny wanted him to figure things out, to understand that there was more to life than killing and making Horcruxes. 

“Merlin,” Riddle muttered under his breath and took the plunge. 

His fingers snaked underneath the plain tan fabric of her underwear, fumbling at her folds. Ginny gasped quietly, gripping the table, and then shifted to allow him easier access. He was clumsy, unsure, yet absolutely captivating. She stared into his eyes, taking solace in the determined curiosity she saw there. Tom was watching; trying to pay attention to her every move, shudder, or soft moan in an effort to decipher her.

The inexperienced digits dipped in between her lips, bumping into her clit and working downward and upward again with a touch far too soft. Ginny chomped on her tongue, wanting to direct him and tell him exactly what she needed. Riddle was smart, he would figure her out. Ginny just needed to be patient. 

And so he did. He was far too reluctant or gentlemanly to finger fuck her, but Tom soon gathered that the little nub of nerves touched in a very precise way would be enough for her. He noted her reactions as his delicate fingers flicked at her. It was slow. Too slow. Ginny wanted to die from anticipation and need. It had been too long since her last bout of intimacy. The war had seen to that, making Harry leave her just as their relationship flourished. She missed the human contact, the feeling, the raw need. Riddle smirked when Ginny let out a quiet little cry as a finger nudged her clit hard. He worked up the speed, teasing her and making her practically grind against his hand in desperation. The sense of satisfaction and pride on his face made Ginny swoon. She was going to orgasm and it would be entirely Tom Riddle’s fault.

Ginny’s eyes rolled back and she crammed some of her knuckles into her own mouth to stifle the noise. She breathed hard as he finished her off; rubbing away and making her twitch in pleasure. Just like that, the wonderful feeling was gone, leaving her out of breath and flushed. When his hands left her, Ginny found herself staring at his smug expression and attempted to compose herself. The urge to jump him and show him more was strong, but Ginny did her best to stay in her seat. 

“That was... interesting,” Riddle remarked quietly, using his clean hand to touch her face. “You make some very lovely faces.” There was a gleam in his eye that Ginny recognized. Dean had been similar, taking a sick sort of enjoyment out of being able to unravel Ginny with a few touches. His fingers had been long too, like Riddle’s, and very deft. It had been quite unfortunate their first time having sex ended up so disappointing when the touches had been so superb. 

“I can return the favour,” Ginny replied immediately, reaching out to touch his leg. She scooted her chair closer and leaned forward, brushing her lips against his neck. “I guarantee you’ll like it.”

Riddle was stiff and quiet, as Ginny came to expect from him. She was more than aware of Riddle’s disinterest in a long term relationship. As he liked to say far too frequently, there were  _ plans _ for the future that didn’t involve a woman. The temptation of pleasure was an internal battle only someone like Tom Riddle would have. Most teenage boys were always thinking about sex of some sort, Ginny had learned. Even the boys who liked boys could be pervy. She smiled in remembrance of what Henry Dodger, a Ravenclaw in her year, used to say about the pretty boys at school. He had been pretty raunchy and liked to tell Ginny and Anna about his exploits with different boys at Hogwarts and elsewhere. She had found it very enlightening. 

“Tom?” Ginny smiled sweetly and squeezed his leg. “I promise I won’t hurt you. If you’re not ready, it’s alright, you can tell me. Be honest. We’re in a relationship, we are supposed to talk about things like comfort zones and desires. We ought to have had this conversation already, I reckon. Would you like me to behave myself better? I would like to explore things with you, but if you’re not up for it....” She moved to pull her hand away and return to her studies.

Riddle reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from moving too far away. His gaze slid over to meet hers and Ginny was not thrilled to see that he was completely unreadable again. Nothing but a stony face and cold eyes. Instead of backing down, she set her jaw and returned his hard look with one of her own. 

“I shouldn’t...” Riddle muttered after a moment’s silence, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Ginny had to try very hard to resist the urge to smirk. Tom placed her hand back on his leg, “But, I...” 

Ginny grinned and nodded. The turmoil going on within the confines of Riddle’s head was ridiculous. So focused, so driven on his quest for power that the fun and simplicity of being a child was lost on him. She raked her nails up his thigh and back down, watching him clench his fists and stare blankly ahead. ‘ _ Try not to enjoy it then, Riddle. I will make you squirm,’ _ Ginny thought to herself as she slowly coasted over the tight area of his slacks. Her mouth twitched when she felt just how hard he was. Sexually repressed Lord Voldemort was sort of humorous. She was fairly certain that in the future Bellatrix Lestrange had thrown herself at him a time or too, but by then he was long gone into the world of Horcruxes and detachment. This Voldemort carried the willpower to become the eventual evil, snake-eyed killer, but he still was human and young right now. Ginny needed to dig deeper; to cement herself as a blockade in his plans. She needed to appeal to whatever was left of him that wasn’t corrupt.

Clearly, she was making some progress, and quickly, if he was letting her get this close. She licked her lips and ran her hand up his still concealed length. There was no response from him, not even a minor twitch. Ginny slowly undid his belt, watching him very attentively. Holding back a sigh, Ginny undid the button of his slacks. It would have been nice to get some sort of reaction from him. 

The second she placed her hand around his finally freed manhood, Riddle jerked his stare toward her. She nearly froze at the harsh, cold eyes that were drinking her in. He was so uncertain of her, so ready to shut her out. Ginny licked her dry lips again and moved her hand up and down, slowly. Though his penetrative stare was hard and somewhat frightening, Ginny bottled up some of her Gryffindor bravery and returned the gaze. His eyes were pretty, though frightening. Their dark, hazel color was much more appealing than the evil red they would eventually become. The long, dark eyelashes that framed his eyes were completely unfair. 

Up and down she worked him, wondering when he would let go and enjoy the intimacy. Ginny sped up the pace, never once glancing away from his face. She took in his jawline, his freckle-free cheeks, his long eyelashes, perfect pink lips. It felt as if Ginny stayed in that moment for an eternity. 

Suddenly, Riddle reached out and wound his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her toward him. Ginny almost toppled out of her seat and nearly lost her grip on his shaft. He kissed her fiercely, lips smashing into hers. His free hand balanced her with a firm grasp on her waist. His touch trailed up the side of body, finally resting underneath her breast where he palmed one with inexperience. Ginny felt the familiar wetness coat her hand and smiled into his mouth. She had broken him, at least a little bit. 

Kissing him once more, Ginny pulled away to grab her wand for cleanup. She pointed it at the mess that had dripped onto his slacks, “ _ Scourgify _ !” She repeated it once more for her hand. Tom immediately began fixing up his tarnished appearance, buttoning his pants, and running a hand through his hair to tame it.

“I doubt anyone will guess what we’ve been up to. Or they might just because we’re two dating teenagers,” Ginny put a hand on his shoulder. “I hope you liked it. I know I did.”

Riddle glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, “Inappropriate and--”

“Oh bah,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “You can’t tell me you’ve never done it alone?”

“Of course I have, but--”

“I think it’s better with someone else,” Ginny interrupted mischievously. “I think it’s nice to have someone want to touch you, to fancy pleasing you, to enjoy things with. No regrets on my end, you know. Wouldn’t object to doing that again sometime either.” 

“Bloody insane, you are,” Riddle shook his head. “With your choice of most of the Pureblood wizards in this entire school--”

Ginny interrupted, yet again, with a huge sigh, “For the love of Merlin, Tom. I’ve already told you I don’t quite give a damn about any of that. I don’t want Malfoy or Yaxley feeling me up or snogging me. I want you to do it. I picked you ages ago, even after the first and second time you told me I could have any available Pureblood wizard I wanted. I could care less about that, Tom. You’re brighter, more handsome and interesting than any of the others. I don’t want to be betrothed to some arse I barely know. I am not a prize to be won because of my blood status. I am more than some floozy meant to breed magical children with my supposedly exceptional bloodline. If our relationship doesn’t work out, so be it, I’m not making any lifelong decisions by being with you. It’s so barbaric to still be doing things like arranging marriages and forcing celibacy.”

Tom was seething, “A Halfblood is not good enough for someone like you, Pyrites. Muggles and Mudbloods are abominations, stains on what should be a pure society. I had to study and push myself harder to be what I am. I had to learn more than any of them and I’m the heir of Salazar Slytherin! I’m only lucky at all because of that fact. You don’t know the Muggles like I do. Nothing good can come from mingling with their blood, I know this and am proof of it. When I can, I will show this whole bloody world what Muggles really are. When I am successful and powerful, I will do so much.”

Ginny blinked. His speeches weren’t nearly as impactful or as scary as they were when Tom was seventy or so, but Ginny got the point. She picked up her quill and dipped it into her inkwell, “You know, all you need to do is be yourself and you prove that Purebloods aren’t better than you, Tom. Be smart, successful, get a great job, live well and they’ll all see that blood status doesn’t make or break a wizard. Who cares what the Muggles do? They’re not our concern really. If someone wants to sleep with one, so be it. It’s not our business. Your mum did it and I don’t think any less of you. Doesn’t matter to me if you’re Slytherin’s heir or not.”

“One day you will understand, Ginevra,” Riddle said slowly, his tone icy and menacing. “I will not fault you for it when you come to your senses. You are free to go at any time. You’re not factored into my future anyway. A school dalliance between us is acceptable. For now.”

Ginny had to bite her tongue to hold back all of the nasty retorts that came to mind. He was messing with the wrong Weasley, not that he knew what she was. Riddle was so stubborn and blind with hate. She needed to keep digging and picking away at his shields, all the while proving she wasn’t going to run off scared for a Pureblood husband. Merlin, she didn’t even want a husband. Not from this time, at least. “If you say so, Tom,” she replied sweetly.


	11. Chapter Ten

On the morning of New Year’s Eve and Riddle’s birthday, Ginny found her morning cereal interrupted by a flat, navy blue envelope being dropped into her bowl. Scowling up at the hooting tawny owl, Ginny quickly used her wand to clear the food remnants from the envelope and check who it was addressed to. It was unlikely she would receive any letters with her real family and friends non-existent and her fake family dead.

“Bloody hell, it  _ is _ addressed to me,” Ginny remarked aloud, staring perplexed at Riddle for a moment before tearing the envelope open. From curiosity to annoyance, Ginny’s jaw tightened as she read the letter to herself.

“What on earth is it?” Riddle asked with a glass of orange juice to his lips.

She rolled her eyes and handed it to her boyfriend, “From the Gamps. They’re awfully sad and sorry I didn’t come visit for Christmas, but they would like me to meet them in the summer. They have stories they could share with me and have some questions of their own apparently.” She sighed and shook her head, “Maybe I ought not to be so suspicious. It seems weird to be reaching out to me now, not when it was first discovered I was alive or anything. I don’t know, Tom. I’ve got a bad feeling about them and that probably isn’t very fair.”

“It’s plenty fair,” Riddle’s eyes danced across the parchment quickly before handing it back to Ginny. “Gut feeling is there for a reason, dear. Go and see them if you like, it might make you feel better. But, don’t be surprised if they ask for money by the end of it. The father probably owes the Goblins money again or something.”

“Bloody great,” Ginny grumbled and shoved her cereal away from her. She knew what it was like to be poor and had seen her parents strive for more for their children. Still, her family rarely squandered money. Neither Arthur, nor Molly gambled or made investments. Most of the time, they went without so the children could have more. Ginny remembered her mother wearing a holey shawl for far too long before it was finally replaced. Not even magic could patch that tattered thing. Would it be wrong of her to give some money to those who needed it? Even if they were likely going to waste it? It was awkward, uncomfortable, and Ginny wanted nothing to do with it.

“You could just ignore it,” he remarked, eying Ginny’s irritated expression. “You don’t owe these people anything. If you had not survived, they wouldn’t have gotten a single knut because the remaining money would have been left to that uncle of yours. Perhaps, if he had ever been proven dead or something they might have been able to put in a claim.”

She grimaced. Thinking about the Pyrites uncle gallivanting around with Grindelwald wasn’t making things any better. There was always a chance that her pretend uncle would come looking for her for something. Sometimes, Ginny truly thought Dumbledore had made a mistake giving her such a name as a backstory. It came with a lot of baggage and far too much to remember... and more pity than Ginny wanted to deal with.

“Bugger them all,” Ginny muttered and placed an elbow on the table to rest her head. She watched Riddle read the paper for a few long moments, “You really don’t do anything for your birthday or New Year’s Eve? Not even watch fireworks or something?” Hogsmeade always set off fireworks in the 90s. They were plenty visible from Hogwarts. Ginny had been able to see them a time or two, though nothing beat the long winter holiday being spent with family and friends. Even when they had all been staying at Grimmauld Place it hadn’t been so bad. Ginny liked having Lupin and Tonks around. Sirius, too, even though he was a bit of an arse at times. 

Riddle nodded his head slowly, “Correct. I prefer solitude. I sense that you are probably going to make me break that solitude this evening, aren’t you?” He had a wry smile on his face. Ginny hated how his smiles never met his eyes. 

Ginny snickered and gave him a sultry smirk, “Of course I am. You won’t let me watch fireworks alone will you?”

“I suppose not,” Riddle murmured with a bemused sigh. “I’m afraid I have something I wish to work on in the library that might take me some time. Alone, preferably. You are quite the distraction, you know. We can meet up for an early supper before you drag me off to the fireworks?”

“Alright, sure,” Ginny wondered what sort of evil crap Riddle might be doing alone in the library. She wanted to follow him, but with so few people in school at the moment, it would be hard to be sneaky. “What are you working on?”

“Just a little side project. Nothing that would interest you, I’m afraid,” Tom rose from the table and held out his hand to Ginny. She took it carefully, frowning at him. He looked at her frown and shook his head, “No pouting, Ginevra. It’s very childish.” Bowing down, he kissed her forehead delicately before excusing himself to the library.

Ginny watched him leave, wondering with a sinking feeling in her stomach what her boyfriend was working on. She couldn’t help but think about the Horcruxes and his future as Lord Voldemort. Though she was hesitant to believe it truly, Ginny was certain he felt something for her. Whatever it was though, wasn’t enough to stop him from going through with his plans. Ginny was finding herself at a loss. She would have to kill him before they graduated from Hogwarts, unless a miracle happened. It bothered her that the mere thought of ending his young adult life made her insides twist. There were times (more times than she wanted to admit) that Ginny really enjoyed being around Tom Riddle. He wasn’t always brooding and muttering about world domination and immortality.

Groaning, Ginny whirled around to grab the letter off the table and shoved it into the pocket of her cloak. She would think about how to deal with  _ that _ situation later. Before she could leave the Great Hall, Albus Dumbledore approached her with a tentative smile.

“Ah, Miss Pyrites. I was hoping I might catch you alone one of these days,” he greeted her warmly. He was wearing silvery robes with pale yellow moons embroidered onto them, with a lopsided, matching wizard’s hat.

“Yeah?” She replied curiously. “What can I help you with, Professor?”

“I thought we might have that discussion we spoke of some weeks ago,” Dumbledore said carefully, giving her a knowing glance. “While Mr. Riddle is busy.”

Right, Ginny needed to give Dumbledore the scoop on the future. It was a questionable request for him to make of her, but Ginny couldn't fault him for being curious. She would be too. Besides, Albus Dumbledore was a highly intelligent man who could help Ginny out with a plan. Nodding, Ginny tried to decide what memories would be crucial for Dumbledore to view. If only she had some of Harry's memories... or even Hermione's or Ron's. They knew the meatiest bits of the situation. Ginny had always been stuck on the outskirts, wishing she could have been in the thick of things with the Golden Trio. 

The professor led her to his office and shut the door behind her. He murmured a few spells that Ginny suspected were to ensure their privacy. It would not be prudent for anyone to overhear this. Ginny couldn't imagine what Tom would do if he found out that she was a time traveler sent to kill him. She would likely be dead before she could utter a single word in her own defense.

“Are you well?” Dumbledore asked lightly as he unlocked a cupboard from the far side of the room, pulling out a Pensieve. 

Ginny nodded slowly, “As well as I can be. The holidays were a big ordeal in my family, so it has been a little upsetting. But, it’s alright. I’m getting by.”

Dumbledore paused with the Pensieve in his grasp, “I am sure it is hard. I am sorry, Miss Weasley. I ought to have reached out on Christmas morning to make sure you were handling everything.”

She shook her head, “Oh. No, it's fine, professor.”

“Do you know what a Pensieve is?” he asked her as he set the large object up at his desk and poured a vial of blue liquid into it. He traced his wand around the rim of the Pensieve until the liquid began to glow slightly. 

“Yeah,” Ginny replied as she took a few steps toward the Pensieve to peer inside. “But I've never used one before. I heard about it from a friend.” Her heart ached just a little as she thought of Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived had been much more than a friend to Ginny.

“I will be able to take a peek at your memories, as if I were there myself. There are limits, of course. I could not, for instance, travel to America whilst in your memory. But, I can look around. Perhaps see things not in your direct line of site,” Dumbledore explained. He seemed excited about the prospect. His blue eyes were sparkling with intrigue and thoughtfulness.

“Makes sense,” Ginny continued to stare into the glowing liquid swirling around the basin. “Where should I start? How do I show you my memories?”

Dumbledore pursed his lips a moment before asking her gently, “I will explain in a moment. Could you share your first memories of Tom Riddle with me?” 

“The diary?” Ginny swallowed and felt her skin crawl as she thought about that time. That Tom was so much like her Tom now, yet also so different. She hated how she had let the diary use her and control her. Ginny vowed never to be that gullible or weak again. She hoped her current situation was not another mistake. “Yeah, I can show you that.”

“Wand to your temple,” he brought his own up to his head. “Hold it there. Concentrate on the memories you wish to retrieve. Imagine they are tied to a string. Slowly pull that string away from your head...” Dumbledore moved his wand away from his temple carefully and a glimmering string of memories came away with it. 

Ginny mimicked the procedure. She thought hard about the diary; how she had found it in her belongings after the trip to Diagon Alley. She remembered how the diary felt; its leather cover and old parchment pages. She remembered the first time she started to suspect the diary was at fault... when she thought she was going mad... when Harry saved her in the Chamber of Secrets... and  _ pulled _ the thoughts out. 

The strand that came out with her wand was long, but Ginny thought that was to be expected with such a large memory. She stared at Dumbledore a moment, who motioned for her to throw the strand into the pool of liquid. Obliging, Ginny watched as the memory swirled around. She saw glimpses of herself at eleven appear as the silvery strand dissolved in the blue liquid. 

“I'll be a moment,” Dumbledore told her with a smile and dunked his head into the Pensieve without hesitation.

Ginny expected to hear a splash, but none came. It was odd watching Dumbledore bent over a fancy cauldron. She didn't know what to do while she waited for him to return. It seemed awkward to just sit and stare. Ginny's eyes glimpsed the strange objects on Dumbledore's desk and wondered what they were used for. She glanced at the stack of papers on his desk, wondering if she got another mediocre score on her latest essay. Her thoughts drifted to what Dumbledore might think of her after seeing that memory. 

Before Ginny knew it, Dumbledore lifted his head up from the Pensieve. 

“Quicker than I expected,” Ginny said nervously, hoping he wouldn't think ill of her for trusting a horcrux-riddled diary. 

Dumbledore only smiled sadly, “I am sorry this happened to you. I will need to think about this, perhaps view it again. May I trouble you for more memories?”

“Okay, sure,” Ginny thought for a moment and brought out the memory of when Cedric died and Harry proclaimed the return of Voldemort. Then the battle at the Ministry of Magic. Then finally, her memory of the night Dumbledore died. 

The older man looked at them all, saying little. Ginny could see the worry in his eyes. He would have much to think about tonight... and more to see next time. Ginny had not even reached the worst parts. 

Dumbledore seemed to realize that, “That's enough for now. It is worse than I had imagined, and I know this isn’t the last of your awful memories. To think that Tom Riddle would become...” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I knew the boy had his issues, but I seem to have misjudged exactly how horrendous those issues are. He becomes what Grindelwald is to us today but worse. Perhaps, I should have acted on these gut instincts years ago.” The older man sighed deeply and rubbed the tip of his nose with a finger.

“I was sent back to stop what he does from happening, somehow,” Ginny said firmly, feeling desperation cling to her heart. “I have no idea how. I keep thinking maybe if he learns to care about people, he might not be so hateful and bitter as an adult. But who am I kidding, professor? I don't think that's even possible. I am here on a fool's errand. I should have fallen fighting, alongside everyone I loved.”

There was a brief silence before Dumbledore cleared his throat, “One can only try their best, Miss Weasley. You are the last vestige of hope for your time. Make an effort, a good one. If I think of anything to assist your crusade, I will inform you. We cannot let this future come to be.” 

“It's a tall order, you know?” Ginny pushed some hair out of her face and tried to sit up tall in her chair. “I have plenty more to show you, next time... but, Professor? It's going to be really bad.” 

The older man nodded slowly, with a look of sympathy twinkling in his blue eyes, “Of course. We can discuss them at a later time. I am sorry to make you relive so much with me. I hope it does not put a damper in your New Years plans with Mr. Riddle.”

“I'm not even sure I want to see him. I'm not sure what I have done thinking I can change his heart,” Ginny scoffed at her own stupidity. “Can someone this evil even have a change of heart? Am I completely insane for attempting this?”

“Not insane, no. There is always room for hope,” Dumbledore responded kindly. “While I cannot say what you're currently doing will change the fate of our world, I do know this is the first time Tom Riddle has let anyone in this close. You have done  _ something _ . Is it powerful enough to make a difference? Ah, well, that I don't know. But... you've done something.”

“It doesn't feel like enough, Professor,” Ginny whispered. Would a few snogs prevent her family from dying? Would it keep Harry alive? She could almost feel Harry's disappointing gaze on her. What would Ron say? He would berate her and disown her as his sister. Not that she would blame him. “I hope this information has been useful to you.”

Dumbledore nodded enthusiastically, “Quite so. I need some time to think about what I have seen here. Perhaps even take another gander before the fireworks tonight. Thank you very much, Miss Weasley. This information shall stay between you and I. Have a merry New Years Eve. Do try to perk up. We still have much more time to prevent that horrible future from coming to be.”

She attempted to smile and hurried out of the room. Her quick steps echoed through the corridor. Ginny wanted to go home, so very badly. There would be nothing to return to though, and she knew this. Her heart ached, pounding for what she had lost. What was she doing, truly, with Tom Riddle? He was a sinister boy with the ability to kill without remorse. Even at this age, his heart was frozen over. Hoping to warm it up seemed futile. She was being absolutely stupid.

The bloke in question was sitting in the Common Room when Ginny arrived. He seemed to be waiting, as he had no books in hand. His eyes slid curiously over Ginny, as if trying to read her thoughts. She had no idea if he knew how to perform Legilimency yet.

“Were you with Professor Dumbledore?” Tom asked without getting up from his seat on the sofa. His tone was light, but she could sense the danger. 

Ginny nodded, still feeling numb. She put her hands in her pockets, “I was, yeah “

Riddle didn't reply. He blinked slowly and stared hard at her. Ginny wondered what was bothering him, wondering if maybe he knew something was off with the girl claiming to be Ginevra Pyrites. After a moment, Riddle stood up and put a hand on her shoulder, “It is highly unprofessional of that man to be hounding you about essays on a  _ holiday week _ . I ought to complain to the Headmaster.”

“Oh, no, it's fine,” Ginny shook her head vehemently. She didn't want Tom to get overprotective of her when it came to Dumbledore. She needed the older man's resources and sage advice. “I am doing better, at least?”

Her boyfriend grumbled, “Your essays have been fairly decent. I am sure less of a mess than others that man receives daily. He is singling you out for no reason I can think of that makes any sense.”

“I think he pities me,” Ginny told him something truthful. Dumbledore most certainly did feel sorry for her. “He keeps asking if I am coping okay. I don't mind. It's not like Slughorn bothers to see if I am doing alright.”

“I suppose that could be it,” Tom remarked, though didn't seem to fully believe it.

“You think Dumbledore has ulterior motives?” Ginny raised an eyebrow, wanting to hear his side of the equation. 

His face turned grim and eyes, dark and stormy. It sent a chill down Ginny's spine. Riddle took a few steps away from her and gazed out a nearby window that peered into the lake, “Pyrites... I do not trust Albus Dumbledore. At all. Nor will I ever. You should not either.”

“Oh,” Ginny was taken aback. It was clear neither of them cared for each other, but this... animosity was alarming and explained so much of their future rivalry. Dumbledore was the only man not swayed or won over by Riddle’s faux persona. He had never been fooled by Riddle’s display of a perfect and ordinary student, and that would bother Tom for the rest of his life. “I'll keep that in mind, I guess. Why do you hate him so much? He seems nice enough.”

“I... just don't trust him,” Future Voldemort muttered and ran a hand through his pristine dark hair. “We needn't discuss this any longer. It’s naught but a gut feeling I’m loath to ignore. Did you still want to take a walk around the grounds? It's quite chilly, so I would recommend a warm cloak.”

  
  


The couple walked the grounds quietly for some time. Ginny spoke of Quidditch for a while, making Tom chuckle politely when Ginny mentioned she would be rooting for the Holyhead Harpies in the professional scene. Tom remarked on how he shouldn't have been surprised to hear her want to support the all-female team. After that, Ginny tried to ask about his life at the orphanage, but Riddle's responses were short and vague. He did not want to discuss anything he may have known about his family either. After each attempt at prying into his life, Tom would shift the conversation to be about her instead. It was frustrating. 

Feeling very chilled after their long walk, Ginny found herself very excited for the warm beef stew being served for supper that evening. She could smell both the savory dish and fresh bread from around the corner. Embarrassingly, Ginny's stomach let out a rumble.

“I'm pretty famished,” Ginny admitted sheepishly. The couple had not gone to lunch that day. “And, sooooo cold.” She pulled her dark cloak tighter around her shoulders.

Riddle seemed distracted and said nothing. Ginny followed his gaze and noted him staring blankly at Professor Dumbledore, who was having a conversation with Professors Mizuno and Slughorn. Ginny noted that Slughorn seemed deeply irritated and flustered; his cheeks were bright red and his brows furrowed. 

They sat at the far end of the long table and Ginny immediately helped herself to stew and bread. She sighed after the first bite of warmth, “Mmm. I love winter meals. I love summer and fall weather, but soups and stews on a cold day? They're just perfect. My favourite meal my mum made was this pork and onion stew. It doesn't sound terribly exciting, but she'd soak the meat in all sorts of broth and herbs before putting it in the stew. It was really good and there was never any left after she'd make it. I think I had three bowls of it once. Felt pretty sick afterwards, but it was worth it.”

Riddle was quiet for a moment before murmuring softly in her direction, “You must miss family meals very much. I am sorry to be such a lackluster companion.”

Ginny paused as she was about to shove bread into her mouth, “You're great company, Tom. I am sorry you never experienced family dinners. You deserved to have a family.” She meant it, too. Perhaps, if he had been a part of one, he wouldn’t have been so miserable and angry.

He gave a wry, disingenuous smile and began to quietly eat his own meal. Ginny wondered once more just how much different Tom would have been if his family hadn't been so messed up. He might have been fairly normal, if not just a bit pig-headed. Well, perhaps very pig-headed if he’d had parents to fuel that ego.

“Hey Tom,” Ginny piped up after a few silent minutes of thought about what could have been. She snagged another chunk of bread from the pile.

“Yes?” he looked at her and dabbed at his mouth politely with a napkin. 

Ginny hesitated a moment before starting, “I was wondering...”

“Hmm?”

“Well, you're of age now. Do you still have to return to the orphanage?” 

Riddle nodded once sharply, his eyes narrowing and jaw tightening as they usually did when the orphanage was brought up, “Yes, unfortunately I am not of age in the Muggle world. I am going to make a case for early independence upon my return this summer though. They're always looking for ways to get rid of us, I imagine it won't be difficult to be approved since I’m so close to adulthood in their world as well.”

“And then what?” Ginny pressed further. She knew he didn't have money waiting for him or anything. 

“I will work and earn my keep to stay at the Leaky Cauldron. Over this last summer I asked the landlord if I might be allowed to wash cups or sweep floors in exchange for a room when I reached seventeen. If they have a need for me, I'll do that,” he explained in a bitter tone of voice. “Or ask around the other shops until one agrees.”

“I could pay for your room at Leaky,” Ginny offered with a hopeful smile. “I’ll be staying there too, after all.” She did not dare propose being roommates. That would not only make Tom balk over how inappropriate that would be for two unwed teenagers to room together, but Ginny was not sure she would want to have him in her space like that.

Riddle set his spoon down forcefully and glowered at her in disbelief, “Absolutely not. I will not be your charity case.”

Ginny frowned and glared back at him, “It wouldn't be charity. It's guaranteeing my 

boyfriend isn't homeless.”

“I will be fine, thank you,” he replied through grit teeth, posture stiff in disdain. She could almost feel the anger radiating off of him.

“I wish you'd let me help you,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “You men... I swear, it's too much of a blow to your fragile little egos to let a woman pay for things.” She had seen enough of that in her time in the past so far.

Riddle gave her a scathing look, “It is the man's duty to provide for his family or take care of himself if there is no family to speak of.”

Ginny groaned in annoying, “That is such outdated logic. Women are fully capable of being providers too. Plenty of women work in the wizarding world, you know. It shouldn't be an insult if someone's girlfriend has the means to help. We ought to be working together and--”

“I do not want it, so please drop this conversation,” Riddle interrupted with a threatening tone of voice. “I will take care of myself, as I have already planned to do.”

“Plans change sometimes,” Ginny tore at her piece of bread irritably, drowning the chunk in her soup dregs before popping it into her mouth. “You can't just outline your whole life. There are surprises sometimes. Sometimes, things just don't work out the way you want them too. You need to be adaptable.”

Riddle’s brow twitched at that, his hands folded tight in his lap, “I am plenty adaptable, dear. Alas, that adaptability is going to be used to achieve my goals. I have paved the way to the life I want; the life I deserve. Your kindness is flattering, but not necessary. I will make my own ends meet.”

“You're so bloody difficult, you know that?” Ginny retorted waspishly, feeling positively exasperated with him. He was so hard headed, so blind to what else might be out there and available to him. Nothing mattered outside his desire to prove he was better and more powerful than everyone else. In some ways, his one-track mind reminded her of Harry. He had been so focused on being the one to save everyone, had not truly believed that more than defeating Voldemort could have awaited him... it made Ginny's brain hurt. 

“I am sorry you feel that way. You're not obligated to remain in a relationship with me. I am not offended, nor bothered if you would like to return to being just classmates,” Riddle took a piece of bread from the loaf and did not meet Ginny's eyes.

“Fucking Merlin!” Ginny swore, making Tom glower at her sharply. She could not roll her eyes any harder, but lowered her voice to not attract the attention of anyone else. “You are such an arse, Tom Riddle. If you didn't want a relationship, then you shouldn't have gotten into one. It takes two to tango, or whatever that phrase is.” Ginny had heard Tonks use that before and liked it, even though Ginny didn't know anything about a tango. Tonks had always said funny and unique things. She angrily tossed the remainder of her bread onto the plate and stood up in a huff. Screw watching fireworks with this bloke. Ginny would watch them herself and yearn for home. 

“Let's not argue or make a scene. I am sorry, Ginevra. I am afraid I know little about how to behave in a relationship,” he reached out to grab her wrist before she could get too far. “You are very enjoyable to be around and I do like your company. Please, let us enjoy the evening. It is still my birthday, after all.”

Ginny made a face, but sat down, “You need to stop being so... so...”

“Difficult?” he offered, somewhat bemused.

“Yeah, that. And so annoyingly stubborn,” Ginny gave her boyfriend a dirty look. “I have feelings too you know. Sure, I get that we may not last forever and all that. I'm not asking for a betrothal, Tom. But, I can be here for you if you need it. Can we make a compromise?”

“I will hear it, at least,” he agreed warily.

Ginny pursed her lips and pointed a finger at him, “Fine. You look for work if you can remove yourself from the orphanage. Whatever you want to do. But!” She paused to narrow her eyes at him and poked him in the chest, “If it comes down to homelessness, you let me care for you until you find something, okay? Just  _ temporarily. _ Please.”

“Would it suffice if I said I will consider it?”

“No,” she replied firmly with a definitive head shake.

Tom Riddle seemed very conflicted. He sighed unhappily, “If I'm to be homeless, I will take your charity, but I do not promise to be happy about it.”

“You don't have to be happy about it, just take it,” Ginny felt exasperated. This man was so frustrating. How did the Death Eaters put up with obeying him for so long? Other than for fear for their lives, of course. As an old man, Tom Riddle had to only become more aggravating. 

“Mmm,” Riddle gave a noncommittal reply. Ginny could tell he was perturbed, but not keen on arguing any further with her. “I am nearly finished with my meal. I assume we will still be climbing the Astronomy Tower to watch the fireworks in a few hours?”

“Definitely,” Ginny noted how unimpressed Tom seemed over the idea of fireworks. She figured the few others that had remained behind, as well as the professors would be climbing towers or watching from the gates. She sat back down beside him. “Do you have a fear of fireworks or something?”

Riddle scoffed, appearing to be quite flummoxed by the accusation, “Afraid of fireworks? What do you take me for, a cat?”

Ginny snickered as she pictured Riddle as an angry black cat, “You seem rather adverse to them.”

“I don't find fireworks exciting,” he shrugged a single shoulder. “It's just... sky sparkles.”

She laughed loudly, catching the attention of some of the staff, “Wow, never heard that description before. I guess it's true though. They  _ are  _ sky sparkles. But, it's  _ pretty _ and sometimes they do cool things.” Ginny thought fondly of the Quidditch World Cup where the Irish team had charmed their fireworks to be dancing leprechauns. It had been so thrilling to watch. 

“You're easily amused, I reckon,” Riddle shook his head ever so slightly. “I'll keep my thoughts to myself during the show... to spare you.”

Laughing, Ginny stood up from the table again, “Thanks for that, Riddle. C'mon, let's get properly dressed and cloaked. We've got a few hours, but we could wait outside and talk while it gets dark or relax in the common room.”

  
  
  


After being stopped en route to Slytherin, Professor Portright spoke to them to remind them to behave themselves and that once the show was over, they were to return to their Houses immediately and head to bed. Riddle promised the large man that they would be model students. 

A snog session and a change of clothes later, Ginny and Tom were ready to go see the fireworks. Ginny had put on her winter cloak and the silver scarf Roslyn had given her for Christmas, while Tom wore a thick jacket that had a fraying cuff and a shabby looking cloak. She knew better than to comment on the status of his winter apparel. There was a time not-so-long ago that Ginny had worn frayed clothing too.

As they attempted to head to the Astronomy Tower, they were intercepted yet again, and this time by Professor Slughorn, who informed them apologetically that the Headmaster had decided everyone should watch the show together in the courtyard. Ginny was disappointed, but understood. There were not many people left behind for the holidays, so best keep everyone together. Ginny was also certain no one liked the idea of Ginny and Tom alone in a tower together. It was fortunate for the faculty that Tom Riddle was a prude. Slughorn had most likely alerted the staff about what he had witnessed in the hallway during his Halloween party.

“Now I am even less enthused,” Riddle complained as they redirected to the courtyard. “In all my other years here, I just stayed in my dormitory during the show and no one cared.”

Ginny elbowed him playfully, “Well, in previous years, you did not have a significant other staying behind with you. They are worried we will end up shagging in a tower or something.”

“Absolutely not, how dare they think that of me!” Tom growled angrily, clenching his fists. “I have been an exemplary pupil and Prefect!”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “Sure, but that doesn't usually stop people from doing anything sexual. Sorry to disappoint you, Tom.”

“How do  _ you _ know this?!” he demanded, stopping a bit away from the congregating group. “You and your sisters were homeschooled. I find it hard to believe you would be so aware of all of this after only a few months of time here.” Tom seemed quite peeved as he narrowed his eyes, “Did you have some sort of affair with a neighbour or something of that nature? Or whilst you have been here?”

Was he jealous of the idea of there being someone else? Or was he just that much of a prude? Ginny could not determine which it was. Sensing how annoyed he was, Ginny decided to take it lightly, “Come off it, Riddle. I listen to what the other ladies say around here. As the youngest sibling, I learned early on that listening carefully when others think everyone else is distracted gets you a lot of useful information. And on top of that? I... used to read my eldest sister's dirty novels. I was curious and embarrassed to ask questions.” The last bit was false, but would suffice for her cover story.

Tom was silent a moment, “I see. I suppose the women here are more lewd than I would have expected.”

She chortled. The things she heard in this time were not nearly as raunchy as the things overheard in the 90s. Riddle would be horrified if he knew. Nodding, she patted him gently on the arm, “A bit, sometimes. I find it so interesting. But, it's also a lesson for me to keep my mouth shut about what we get up to. You never know who might overhear or what may spread. I adore Nella and all, but I am not sure I want her knowing too many details. The entire school would be aware within 24 hours. Actually, likely less than that.”

Riddle's face was stony, “Yes, please avoid letting Greengrass spread rumours about our relationship.”

The group waiting for the fireworks show was mostly staff, as only a small handful of students remained behind for the holidays. Ginny had not paid much attention to the other students, as they were younger and not terribly interested in socializing with the Slytherins. As she peered over at them, she noted that two of them must have been a pair of siblings. They looked quite a bit alike. The staff was much more relaxed, dressed in more casual winter-wear rather than teacher's attire. Professor Almasy was sweet-talking the Astronomy professor shamelessly. Professor Mizuno was flushed scarlet and hid behind her long, dark hair. She was a tiny woman, who had an athletic build. Ginny suspected she may have once been a Quidditch player or at least flew regularly. Professor Almasy had game, though Ginny was not surprised given how attractive the man was. 

When the first pop of fireworks began, excited tittering rang out among the group. Slughorn clapped Dumbledore on the back, pointing up at the sky while Madame Munroe looked bored and yawned into the sleeve of her pink robes. Madame Golightly, the kind-hearted Healer, was staring up at the sky looking like an excited child with her hands clasped in front of her chest. Ginny found it sort of nice to see everyone more relaxed and less professional.

“Whoa!” Ginny could not help but exclaim when a pinwheel firework began to roll across the sky and then split into a dozen ballerinas. She watched in delight as they performed pirouette across the sky in sync. 

Next came a squad of dancing bears wearing fedoras. At the end, the bears all threw their hats into the air and those exploded into a plethora of coloured sparkles that morphed into miniature bear cubs. 

“How can you not enjoy this?” Ginny poked Tom in the ribs. “Those bears were neat!”

Tom shrugged, but put an arm around her shoulders, “I suppose they were decent.”

Ginny shook her head disdainfully, “You're batty, Tom Riddle. OOH! Look at those!” 

A tidal wave of lights came rushing across the sky, followed by another wave, and another before turning into a Christmas tree. The tree lit up and the angel on top took out it's own wand, which summoned a group of marching elves and prancing reindeer. After a few moments, all of them melded into one, massive blob of coloured that began to roll out to spell HAPPY NEW YEAR. Ginny loved every second of it, though it made her long for home so very badly. She missed Fred and George's homemade fireworks that would spell out swears or have animated people mooning everyone. They were so ridiculous, her brothers. Merlin, did she miss them all so much. 

The sudden downpour of emotion nearly made Ginny choke. She swallowed hard, trying to fight back the urge to sob. Ron would have loved this fireworks show too. Her mum would have made everyone cocoa and biscuits. Ginny had never wanted to hug her mother so badly before.

“Ginevra? You're shaking. Are you okay?” Riddle whispered into her ear.

She nodded, trying harder to fight the tears.  _ Stare at the fireworks, _ Ginny told herself. _ Do not cry, not here. You're stronger than this. _

Tom seemed as if he wanted to pry further, but was cut off by the firework countdown that had appeared in the sky. He tightened his grip on Ginny's shoulder. He pressed himself against her back, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“Three! Two! One!” Ginny chanted with the others through the pain that was welling up in her chest. She would be a part of 1944 now and sorely wished she had paid more attention in History of Magic. Before she could dwell any further, Ginny found herself distracted by the firm hands of Tom Riddle shifting her body towards him. They kissed under the display of lights as the year changed over. His lips were soft, barely pressing into hers before he let go.

“Happy New Year,” Riddle whispered in her ear as he pulled away, leaving Ginny longing for comforts she couldn’t have.

“Happy New Year, Tom,” she replied softly, reaching out to bury her head into his chest. Ginny held the sorrow at bay, but her heart hurt badly for everyone she loved that had not even been born yet in this time. 


	12. Chapter Eleven

“Ginnnnyyy!!!” 

Before the redhead could react, Ornella Greengrass was flopping onto Ginny's bed looking excited and flushed. Students were beginning to return to Hogwarts again.

Raising a single eyebrow, Ginny removed her Quidditch book from under Nella's knee, “What did you do?”

“What!” Nella looked scandalized. “I... did nothing. Well, not  _ nothing _ , but I think I am interested in someone.”

If this bloke was anything at all like the last one Nella had been interested in, Ginny was going to protest. Jarvan Vance had been daft and obnoxious. Not to mention, a bad influence on Nella. It had been a relief that he moved on to a new target shortly after the Halloween party Slughorn held. Ros and Ginny spent more time than either wanted reassuring Nella she was better off without Vance.

Ginny blinked a few times, “Mhm?”

Nella let out a dramatic sigh as she lay back on Ginny’s pillows, “Yes! A mate of one my brothers, Linwood, you know the one in Ravenclaw?”

Ginny had been introduced to Linwood and Sherwood Greengrass before. They had been nice enough, but reminded her of Fred and George. Though, Linwood and Sherwood were not quite as mischievous as Ginny's brothers had been. She nodded at Nella, trying not to feel glum over her unborn family members. 

“Well,” Nella tucked her legs under herself. “We had a few guests over, like I told you and you absolutely should have come... but anyway! Linwood’s fiancee, Marissa, was over with her family on Boxing Day and everyone was being droll and chatting about future weddings and all that. So, I stepped outside to get away from it all and one of Linwood’s mates came out to check on me. They have been friends for  _ ages _ , but I never paid him much mind. Same with Sherwood's friends. They all seemed untouchable to me, you know? Friends of the big brothers and all. Anyway, I'm getting to the point I swear it! We start talking and he is being sweet and complimenting how pretty I have grown up to be. Oh Ginny, it was so lovely!”

Ginny had to try desperately not to roll her eyes or laugh. Ornella Greengrass was such a sucker for romance and cutesy things. It was endearing in a childish sort of way. Composing herself, Ginny replied cautiously, “And you fell in love, just like that?”

“Noooooo,” Nella protested, her cheeks going pink. “I'm just  _ interested  _ right now.”

“Sure you are,” Ginny teased. “So who is he? Do I know him? Is he in Ravenclaw like Linwood?”

“Yes, it’s Rathmore Plunkett,” Nella whispered breathily, her eyes shining in excitement.

Ginny snorted, “Come off it, that can’t really be someone's name. That's atrocious.”

Nella scowled at her friend, “Don’t be rude, Ginny. That is his name. I'll point him out next time we walk by him. He has dark brown hair and the most beautiful blue eyes. Oh, and a chiseled jawline with just a hint of stubble, some light freckles on the bridge of his nose... Oh, he is so handsome! Oh! He plays Quidditch, you must have noticed him playing. He's a Chaser.”

“Oh, probably, yeah. The taller one?” Ginny recalled the Ravenclaw team. If it was the bloke Ginny was thinking of, he was definitely attractive. Like, extremely attractive. Good job Nella.

Nella nodded enthusiastically and gushed for quite a while about Rathmore Plunkett, until Roslyn appeared to save Ginny from hearing anymore about the Ravenclaw Chaser. Ros hadn't had as interesting of a holiday as Nella by comparison, but Ginny found that subject a trifle easier to talk about. The trio talked all the way until supper time and continued as they meandered to the Great Hall. Ginny was careful to avoid discussing too much about her and Riddle, no matter how much prodding Nella attempted.

Instead of sitting beside Riddle, Ginny took a seat with Nella and Roslyn. It was unlikely that Tom would be bothered by it. She was enjoying the girl talk, even if it made her miss her own mates from her own time. Nella and Ros were wonderful, truly, but Ginny couldn't help but find them aggravating and too old-fashioned at times. Nella's boy-crazy rambles were eye-rolling sometimes. Still, Ginny appreciated them giving her the time of day and letting her in. 

“Hmm,” Ros leaned in to whisper across the table. “Does something seem off to you? Why are Walburga and Lucretia whispering together like that? Is Theodisia crying?” She pointed toward the doors, where a few seventh year Slytherin’s were congregating around the dark haired girl who was sobbing into her hands. 

“Maria Malfoy looks upset too, and she generally doesn't look anything but vacant,” Nella remarked with a frown on her face. “That doesn't bode well. Wonder what happened.”

Before the girls could deduce what had happened, Headmaster Dippet stood up and began shushing the crowd, while motioning for everyone to take a seat. Once everyone was seated, he spoke in his wheezy voice, “Welcome back and Happy New Year. May this one bring you all fortune and happiness, and good scores on your exams. I am afraid I will be starting this year off with some unfortunate news.”

He paused and the crowd began to whisper in confusion. Ginny's eyes slid toward Theodisia Williams, who was still crying her eyes out at the front of the table. A nervous rock began to form in her stomach. Had Grindelwald killed someone else? 

Headmaster Dippet took a deep breath, “It brings me much sorrow to announce the passing of one of our own. Miss Kassimira Sonya Twilfitt succumbed to her illness late on the 28th of December. She was surrounded by her family at her time of passing. Her family has not yet announced details regarding her service, but I assure you, we will relay the information when we receive it. For right now, I would like to have a moment of silence in remembrance of our fellow student.” 

Ginny felt a twang of sadness tug at her. While she had not liked Kassimira Twilfitt much, she didn't think the girl had deserved to die. It had not been a secret that the young woman had been suffering from health issues. Ginny witnessed her coughing fits before and they were not pretty. Her heart went out to the seventh year girls, especially Theodisia, who had been connected at the hip with Kassimira. Losing friends was painful and Ginny unfortunately experienced it many times in her life. She would not wish that pain upon anyone, not even those she disliked.

“In situations like these, it is best to stick together and support one another. Remember Miss Twilfitt and honour her memory with kindness,” Headmaster Dippet smiled sadly as he broke the sadness, before sitting down. Dippet was not as good with speeches as Dumbledore was. The rest of the students followed suit once their Headmaster had taken his seat.

Ornella shook her head, “I didn't know Kassimira was  _ that _ ill. I feel wretched being rude to her a while back.” The blonde girl scratched her cheek, taking a peek at the seventh year girls again.

“Kassimira was born with weak lungs, they were always causing her issues,” Ros replied morosely. “It never seemed to get any better. I do hope it wasn't a painful death.”

Ginny found herself with nothing to say. Thinking about death only brought forth memories she had not been wanting to relive. The losses she had incurred in her life were too many. But, that’s why she was here, wasn’t it? To prevent those losses. A sense of futility passed over her, making her wonder for the hundredth time if what she was doing would have any effect on the future. Was it for naught? Not knowing was driving her mad. Grimacing, the girl attempted to eat a sliver of her rosemary chicken.

It was a somber and quiet meal in the Great Hall. The Slytherin table was especially silent, with only whispers from those reminiscing over Kassimira. Ginny was eating quickly, wanting to distance herself from the mourning. She had done so much of that already in her short life. The cries of loss were making her feel uncomfortable and bitter. She felt guilty for feeling that way, but the overwhelming feelings were bubbling beneath her skin just aching to be set free.

Ginny excused herself early, wanting to get away from the gloomy aura in the Great Hall. It was making her think too much. She pitied those that missed Kassimira Twilfitt, but she was also jealous. Jealous, because illness took the seventh year and not someone else. Jealous because everyone was feeling sorrow that would not leave as horrid of a scar as Ginny had been left with. Ginny knew it was cruel and unfair of her to think that way, but she knew how much less it would have stung in her heart if Fred or Bill had died to a disease over the Killing Curse. She felt like a terrible person. It wasn't fair to be thinking like this, or creating parallels that did not match up in the slightest. Kassimira had been loved and cared for, she deserved the mourning people were giving her memory. Ginny was just being foul. 

She rounded the corner to the entrance to Slytherin when a cool, soft voice uttering her sham of a surname got her attention. 

Riddle.

Whirling around to face him, she crossed her arms across her chest. She did not want questions right now. “Oh, hello Tom, I was feeling tired so I--”

“ _ Liar _ .”

“What?” Ginny was caught off-guard. His voice was so cold and tight. “What are you talking about, Riddle?” 

“You're upset,” Tom replied coolly. Riddle took a few long strides to close the gap between them. “You are very upset, I would say. Are you taking Twilfitt's death poorly? I was not aware you were friendly with her. Maybe I misunderstood the situation, but I thought you rather disliked the girl.”

Ginny scowled and looked down at the floor in shame, “No, you’re right. I didn't like her really. She bothered me being so in love with you. Talked about it all the time. It was clear she thought she deserved you more than I did.” It was a cringeworthy admission and it made Ginny feel awful. “I do feel bad she is dead. She was so young and, I- I... feel sort of... er... you know what? Nevermind. It's nothing. I'm being a real bitch right now.”

A cold, firm hand grabbed her elbow and tugged her toward himself. He placed a finger underneath her chin and tilted it up to stare into her eyes, “You are not obligated to mourn her death. I am not. She was an obnoxious, whiny girl. She despised you for getting what she thought she deserved -- me.” Riddle gave a chilling, sarcastic laugh. “She never had a chance at being worth my time, so don’t think any further on that.”

Ginny shivered and stared into his hazel eyes. So unreadable, so cold, yet so hauntingly beautiful. She swallowed and backed out of his grasp, “I am jealous of everyone who is feeling sorrow for the first time. An illness took her. Not another person. I... can't explain it. I am being wretched, I know. It's hard to handle this when I lost everyone I loved, everyone I had. I will never see them again.” She looked away so that Riddle could not see the tears and the shame welling up in her eyes. Ginny tried to swallow back the pain, “Twilfitt did nothing wrong, really. She might have despised me for taking you, but that’s irrelevant. Everyone is hurting over her loss and I wish they weren't, but I also wish they knew what a fraction of my pain felt like. Why is everyone comforting Theodisia, when I've lost my whole family? Why isn’t there anyone to ask if I'm okay? Merlin, I am being terrible. I am sorry, Tom. I--” She had lost more than just family, but no one else knew that. Ginny couldn’t admit to anyone the amount of casualties she had been privy to. 

“Ginevra,” Riddle interrupted in a solemn whisper. “I never ask because it isn't in my nature to do so. However, you radiate strength. You are persevering despite the loss of your entire family. You've not got anyone left and you can still smile, laugh, and engage in normal conversation with others. If you need someone, perhaps you ought to confide in Greengrass or Rackharrow, since you seem to have developed a bond with them. Most people are not mind-readers. Sympathy is being offered to those like Williams because she is expressing her pain outwardly. You never do. It is one of the reasons I admire you. But, if you need the  _ comfort _ , you only need to ask.”

“I--”

He interjected once more; a hand raised to stop her from speaking, “I do not like to give comfort, but I would consider it. For you. I believe that is expected of a boyfriend.”

Ginny felt warmth flood her cheeks and fill her chest. Voldemort was offering her support. It was bizarre, but reassuring. Comfort and care was something she really missed from her old life. It was impossible to truly confide in anyone here. She attempted to smile, “Thanks Tom. Sorry I'm being a brat right now.”

He remained silent for a moment, “You're still not going to give in and cry.”

She shook her head. Tears were for being alone. Ginny kissed Riddle's cheek and headed for the entrance to the common room, “I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow.”

  
  
  


The atmosphere in Slytherin was still dreary in the morning. However, Ginny was feeling a lot less sulky and selfish and even forced herself to offer condolences to Theodisia and the other seventh years. Once she had done that, the red-head had run off to class and decided to stay away from the Common Room for a while. Too much doom and gloom would only send Ginny into her own head.

On her way to lunch, Ginny found herself thinking about Tom Riddle and the things he had said to her the day before. It had been startling for him to offer to be her shoulder to cry on. That was unexpected. It gave her hope that she might be making a difference. Maybe, showing him to care would be the key to a better future. Ginny couldn't help but sigh aloud, and then shriek as she slammed into something firm.

“Oi, you alright?” a deep, cheerful voice asked, grabbing her arm to keep her from falling on her arse.

Ginny frowned at her actions. She should have been paying attention. She looked up to thank her savior and her heart stopped a moment. While she had seen him around from a distance, Ginny deliberately kept her distance from her future grandfather - Septimus Weasley. 

“I am, yeah. Sorry about that,” Ginny laughed awkwardly, feeling her entire face flush. This was Granddad! A much younger version. The version Ginny knew was quite a bit rounder and much more gray. 

The red-haired boy grinned and reached out to touch Ginny's hair, “When I first saw you during the Sorting, I seriously thought maybe I had another cousin I didn't know about. Nice to meet a fellow ginger. I'm Septimus Weasley.”

“Ginny Pyrites,” she managed to reply calmly.

“Bloody hell, you sure could pass for a Weasley, that's for sure. Maybe the Pyrites  _ have  _ Weasley blood. It's quite likely... there is practically an army of us. Weasley’s don't know how to stop shagging. It's bloody lucky my mum had fertility troubles after having my younger brother. There are only three of us. I've got about a thousand cousins though. Not a single girl though, isn't that crazy?” Septimus was rambling, just as he did as an old man. His hands were flailing around him in expression. Something Ginny was very familiar with.

Ginny grinned widely at him. She had been the first Weasley girl born into the family in quite some time, which was a fact she was quite proud of. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder, “I don't know a lot about my ancestors, but I am sure it's likely we are related. Most Pureblood families are after all.”

Septimus scratched his neck sheepishly and nodded, “Ah, yeah, I guess that's true. Oh bollocks, sorry, Ginny. I need to take off. I left something in the Transfiguration classroom. I hope we bump into each other again! Not literally, but figuratively!” He flashed her a grin, waved, and took off.

“See ya later,” Ginny waved him off, feeling yet another pang of loss. Granddad Weasley had still been alive when she had left her time. He had been old with a forgetful air about him, but alive. Grandmum Weasley passed in 1996 and Ginny missed her. She knew the woman would not be here at school with them, as Cedrella Black was three years older than Septimus Weasley. It had been quite the scandal as well. Grandmum left her betrothed to elope with Granddad and ended up disowned by the Black family. 

With family on her mind yet again, Ginny walked to the Slytherin table wordlessly and plopped down near Abraxas Malfoy and John Mulciber. Riddle was nowhere to be found.

“Where's Tom?” Ginny asked them as she filled her plate. 

The two blokes shared a look, neither wanting to say anything. Finally, Malfoy resigned himself to responding, “Meeting with someone.”

“Who?” Ginny pressed.

Malfoy shrugged, but Ginny got the impression he knew exactly who. She narrowed her eyes at him. He surprisingly did not back down. His silvery blue eyes bore into her brown ones. 

“Mulciber, tell me,” Ginny turned to the boy who she knew had been crushing on her. “Please.” She flashed him a sweet smile in hopes to win him over.

He looked away from her, turning pink, “I'unno.”

Ginny was fuming, “You. Both. Are. Gits. Tell me  _ right now _ what's happening. Do I need to be concerned? Is it another girl? Or is he just weaseling information from someone?” She nearly added  _ ‘or hurting someone’  _ but had refrained.

“Look, Pyrites,” Malfoy said, sounding exasperated. “You really don't want to know. I promise it's fine. Everything will be okay. He just needed to talk with someone who was saying something they shouldn't be. That's it.”

“How vague, Malfoy.”

Malfoy shrugged a single shoulder, “I know. Don't fret little red, Riddle seems oddly attached to you. Unlikely he would mess around behind your back.”

“Yeah,” Mulciber agreed, though Ginny did not miss the dejected tone of his voice. “He went ballistic on that Hufflepuff bloke who said he wanted to--”

“Shut it, Mulciber,” Malfoy elbowed the bigger boy hard in the side, causing Mulciber to knock over his pumpkin juice.

Ginny nearly choked on her water as she watched the orange liquid stain the white tablecloth, “What? When?”

“It's nothing. He got jealous before the holiday break. Some Mudblood was being vulgar about you,” Malfoy shrugged dismissively. “Riddle is possessive.”

She stared at Malfoy carefully, who gave her a pointed look that said clearly  _ let's not talk about this anymore. _ As much as she did not want to let the subject go, Ginny dropped it. Perhaps she could corner Malfoy later and get information from him. Still seething, Ginny ate slowly and tried not to worry about what Tom Riddle would be up to. Infidelity was the least of her worries. Their relationship was more of an inconvenience to Tom than anything else. Ginny was a hindrance in his evil plans for the future. He was most certainly up to no good and Ginny suspected it had to do with his Horcruxes and his quest for power. 

Ginny excused herself when Tertius Rosier sat down beside her. She despised him and how cruel he was. Rosier said some of the most foul things about Muggles and Muggleborns. There was something so sinister about him it made her uncomfortable. There was not a doubt in her mind that he would be one of the worst Death Eaters in Riddle’s first group.

Unsure of where to start looking for Riddle, Ginny hesitated outside the Great Hall and tried to think of likely places for him to be causing mischief or harm. A classroom? An abandoned corridor? In the courtyard? There were too many options. Where was the Marauder’s Map when she needed it? It didn’t even exist in this time, much to Ginny’s chagrin. She couldn’t even go knick it from someone even if she had wanted to.

“Pyrites.”

The calm, inviting voice of Abraxas Malfoy got her attention. Well, that was helpful. She had been wanting to talk to him after all.

“Are you going to tell me what Riddle is up to or be a pain in the arse?” Ginny rounded on him, narrowing her brown eyes at him. “If the latter then--”

“Take a walk with me,” Malfoy interrupted and led her down the corridor, away from the Great Hall where too many eyes and ears lingered. “Look, Ginny. You know Riddle has a group of friends who all meet up--”

“And are very suspicious and probably evil,” Ginny hissed under her breath, casting a dark glance at the tall blonde. 

Malfoy chuckled darkly, “Maybe a bit evil, yeah. Riddle has a lot of decent ideas about the future of the wizarding world. He might be strange and he has some odd quirks and is kind of an arse, but Riddle is quite brilliant. Frighteningly so, to be honest. Well, anyway, entry into the group is a commitment. Someone wanted to break that commitment and threatened Riddle. He's not keen on that so they are having a little chat.” 

A chill ran down her spine. She knew a Death Eater's membership was for life. Voldemort did not care for betrayers. She stopped walking and grabbed Malfoys wrist, “Who is he with?”

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably and wrenched his arm out of Ginny's grasp, “You're going to tell him I told you.” 

She shook her head fiercely, “I won't. I swear it, please Abraxas. Who is it? Are they in danger?”

“Basil Crouch,” Malfoy replied in a low whisper. “Probably, yeah. Riddle was furious in our meeting last night. Crouch is a wimp, but his family has been around for ages. Riddle wants his support. Crouch threatened to tell Dippet about some... things. Crouch will be silent once Riddle is done with him.”

Ginny took it all in and thought a moment. Barty Crouch Sr. hadn't been a Death Eater, but his son had taken the mark. Maybe Basil projected his disdain for the group to his son... assuming Barty Sr. even was his son. Ginny had no idea, she hadn’t memorized any family trees outside of the one she was using for her own gains here in the past. She groaned quietly, “Bollocks.”

Malfoy stared at her, piercing her with his pale eyes, “Why are you seeing him, Pyrites? You could do much better than him. If I didn't support his visions I wouldn't even be hanging around him. Don't repeat that, please. He’ll have my neck if he catches word of that. I reckon a lot of us feel that way, but we’re not keen on saying it aloud.”

“He...” Ginny tried to find the words to explain without revealing her secret of being a time traveler. “Like you said, he is brilliant. And fascinating when not on some sort of angry tangent. I feel like he just needs a bit of softening or something.” She knew it sounded lame, but it was true. Mostly.

Malfoy snorted, “Softening? Merlin, Ginny, he isn't butter. He's the most cold individual I have ever met. There isn't much in there besides darkness and cruelty. And whatever obsession he has with you. You definitely have made a mark on him, don't get me wrong. He's bloody in love with you, I reckon. Doesn't know what to do about it. Probably doesn't want to do anything. But a bloke like Riddle isn't about to let wizarding world domination and reconstruction go to waste because of a girl.”

“Well, I can try,” Ginny practically growled, ignoring the remark about Voldemort being in love with her. That was definitely untrue.

“Aye,” Abraxas Malfoy agreed and gave her a pitying look. He seemed tempted to hug her. “That you can. Listen, I've got to run and get my books from the Common Room before class. You can talk to me anytime, okay? Well, not when Riddle can see.”

“Thanks Malfoy,” Ginny replied glumly. She wasn't sure she wanted her confidante to be a bloody  _ Malfoy _ . At least Abraxas was a bit more polite than his son or grandchild. With a sigh, Ginny went out into the chilly courtyard to finish an essay about Bowtruckles for her Care of Magical Creatures class that was coming up soon. 

Bundling up in her robes, Ginny stared blankly at her nearly-finished essay and tried to focus. It was hard to do when her brain kept wandering to other subjects like --  _ what to do with Tom Riddle? _ and  _ Why are the future Malfoys such arseholes? _

  
  


She did not see Tom until the evening. After class, Ginny had returned to the Slytherin Common Room to wait for him to get back from Ancient Runes. She busied herself with trying to get a headstart on some assignments, but did not make much progress. Lucretia Black decided to be a distraction. 

“Ginny,” the pretty blonde girl who would be Ginny's future great-aunt greeted her. “How are you this evening?” 

Ginny noted that Lucretia seemed tired, there were dark circles under her eyes. Setting her quill down, Ginny shrugged, “Alright I suppose. The Professor's have been doling out a lot more homework since the holiday break has ended.”

Lucretia took a seat in the green armchair across from Ginny and crossed her ankles demurely, “As they do every year. Just wait until you're in seventh year. You will be drowning in assignments.” The older girl smiled wryly.

“Oh,” Ginny grimaced. She wouldn’t know. She never made it to seventh year. Education had been practically nonexistent in her sixth year, anyway. 

A moment of awkward silence fell between them. Before Ginny could speak up, Lucretia asked her softly, “Are you and Riddle doing well?”

“Yes,” the redhead replied immediately. “I think so anyway.”

Lucretia nodded thoughtfully, “That's splendid. You know, Walburga and I thought he might, uhm, prefer men for a while. Kassimira was beautiful and he did not spare her a second thought. Not that you are not, I apologize for sounding so rude! But there was something  _ classi _ c about Kassimira. It was always a shock he didn't give her a chance, especially since Kassimira was so far above his station. He should have been honoured by the mere fact that she was interested in him. I suppose he was waiting for the right girl to win him over.” 

How was she supposed to reply to that? Ginny stared at the blonde woman and tried to find something to say. She looked down at her homework and tried not to scowl. What a backhanded insult.

“I've offended you,” Lucretia spoke plainly, not asking, but stating in her lilting voice. “That was not my intent, I assure you.”

“It's fine,” Ginny replied a bit stiffly. She didn't care that people suspected Riddle was gay. She didn't care that Kassimira Twilfitt once thought herself in love with Ginny's boyfriend. “Riddle and I are well and he is definitely not into boys.”

“Well, obviously not if he is with you,” Lucretia brightened a bit and ran a hand through her lengthy, pale hair. “I think you two are quite sweet together, though Walburga thinks it is practically a sin. Your bloodline outshines even ours, though Burgie doesn't want to admit that. Alas, it is true. You Pyrites have  _ at least _ three-hundred years on us.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. While Lucretia did not seem as bothered by Riddle's ambiguous surname as some of the Purebloods, she was starting to grate on Ginny's nerves. This fake bloodline meant nothing to Ginny. Hell, her  _ real _ bloodline meant nothing to her. Everyone putting so much merit on her supposed blood status just made her mad. Ginny cleared her throat, “Mm. Well, I don't care much for blood purity. I don't think I'm much better than anyone else, no matter how far you can trace my line back.”

The other girl was silent a moment, seeming as if she were not thrilled with the direction the conversation had gone. Lucretia bit her lip before speaking, “Might I be plain with you a moment, Ginny? You see, Ignatius and I -- that's my betrothed -- we have been interested in one another since fourth year. We were betrothed shortly after I let it slip to my mother that I fancied him. Thank Merlin all has seemed to work out for us. I love him dearly. But, had he not been Pureblood? I think... Hmm. Well, I am quite certain I would have considered an affair with him regardless.”

Ginny blinked a few times. So Lucretia Black prioritized love over blood purity. How convenient she got so lucky with her love interest. She recalled Tonks telling her about her own mum, Andromeda Black. Andromeda had been disowned for falling in love with a Muggleborn. Left out to dry by her family. Tonks confided to Ginny and Hermione that none of the Black family outside of Sirius had spoken to Andromeda since the day she got disowned. It was complete and utter rubbish. Lucretia didn't seem the type to be able to handle disownment. It was hard to believe this was the Aunt that Molly Weasley adored in the future.

Riddle's arrival in the common room spared Ginny from needing to reply to Lucretia. She excused herself from the conversation somewhat rudely and hurried to greet him, “Hey. I missed you at lunch.” Ginny attempted to sound playful, but it came out tense.

Her boyfriend seemed to notice this and eyed her cautiously, “I had things to take care or. Do not worry, dear, nothing to concern your pretty little head about.”

Eyebrow raised, Ginny stared at him. She did  _ not _ like being spoken down to like that, or dismissed. Forcing a smile, Ginny took his arm, “I think we should take a walk.”

“Very well,” Riddle agreed coolly, taking Ginny's hand in his and motioning toward the exit of the Common Room. She started off toward the library, which would be fairly empty on a Friday evening before supper. Perfect for a private chat.

They conversed little on the trek there, which gave Ginny time to decide how to approach Riddle about what he might be up to regarding his future Death Eaters. It was unlikely Riddle would tell her much, but she would give a shot. What Malfoy had divulged to her was sitting poorly and did not make Ginny feel confident in her mission to turn Tom Riddle into a better person. 

The furthest table from the door was nestled between the restricted section and the autobiographies. Usually, it was taken, but Ginny was pleased to see it free. It was a very safe place to speak quietly, as there was not much around it and people rarely frequented those sections. 

“What has gotten you so riled up?” Tom asked her with a hint of irritation. He did not seem pleased to be seated in the library for questioning. His body language was stiff and defensive. He was prepared for verbal battle.

Ginny bit her tongue, trying not to lash out at him. She needed to be calm and pleading so he wouldn't get too angry with her. Besides, she wasn't supposed to let him think she knew anything. Malfoy swore her to secrecy and much as Ginny was loath to admit it, she needed Malfoy as a source of information.

“I tried to ask your friends where you were and none of them would tell me. They were being vague and indifferent,” Ginny hoped that didn't sound as pathetic as she thought it did. “I was concerned when you skipped lunch, but then it seemed like they all knew what you were up to and I was out of the loop.”

Riddle's expression remained guarded and careful, like a stone mask, “I was speaking with someone. Nothing important.”

“That doesn’t explain why they wouldn't tell me where you were. It was pretty obvious they knew something.”

“Because they are imbeciles?” Riddle suggested, as if for a moment he really expected Ginny to be satisfied with that response. When he saw she would not be, he continued, “Very well then. Look, Ginevra. You know I have plans and goals for my future. They are very explicit and I don’t make many exceptions, outside of you. When people impede my plans, I am unhappy. I do not take kindly to lies and deception. Thus, I needed to confront this person immediately before things became a problem. It was nothing but a misunderstanding.”

Well, that was about as close as Tom Riddle would get to telling her about Death Eater related business. Ginny chewed on her lip a moment, “So, someone betrayed you.”

“In a way, yes,” he stared directly into her brown eyes, as if he was trying to force her to end the conversation with Legilimency. Unfortunately for him, Occlumency was something she practiced in her sixth year. Riddle took one of her hands in his, “I handled it. You need not worry. The individual I was speaking to was a male, in case you were wondering. You do not seem to have much faith in my fidelity.”

Ginny felt her cheeks go warm. Merlin, she did seem like an overzealous woman didn't she? She sighed and shook her head, “It's not that I don’t trust you, Tom. I hear so many things about you and you tell me you have these  _ plans  _ for your future. No one is allowed to get in your way. It makes me worry. I don't want you to hurt anyone or yourself. You're almost fanatical about this supposed future of yours that I don’t know a damn thing about. I'm sorry someone betrayed you, but--”

“There is no excuse, there are no exceptions. I will have my goals met, Ginevra,” he interjected calmly, but quite coldly. “You are unfortunately aware of my father's lineage. While he may have left me his useless surname, my mother's family was very important and very Pure. I spent countless hours researching her line. I discovered all that I could. How much do you know about Salazar Slytherin, Ginevra?”

Ginny had an idea of where this conversation was heading, but she played along, as she was not supposed to know about his relation to the founder yet. Shrugging, Ginny responded offhandedly, “He didn't think Hogwarts should take in Muggleborns. He could speak to snakes and had one daughter? You’re related to him?”

Tom Riddle nodded, a smirk crossing his steely face, “Yes. Sarissa Salazar, his only and much beloved daughter. Though he also had three sons, it was no secret Sarissa was his favorite. Sarissa married into a Pureblood family you have surely never heard of. The  _ Morwaithes _ . She married their youngest son, Pwyllim Morwaithes. They had two children, a boy and a girl. The boy, Pwyllim the second, survived to adulthood unlike his sister who died at the age of nine. Pwyllim went on to wed Tiathryn Goshawk. You may know that surname from our course books.”

Ginny nodded, wanting to roll her eyes. A lesson in the Riddle family tree was not quite the conversation she had been hoping to have. “Yeah, Miranda Goshawk,” Ginny replied, recalling her Standard Book of Spells sitting up in her directory. Miranda Goshawk's books were still used even in her own time.

“Yes, her. Anyway. Pwyllim and Tiathryn had a few children and those children wed Purebloods as well. A few generations later, the Morwaithes name died out after having a bunch of women born into their line. But, those women continued to marry in Pure families. Finally a witch from their line named Rigantona MacBoon married Elfin Gaunt. They had a son named Marvolo. Marvolo had two children, Morfin and Merope Gaunt. Merope was my mother.”

“So your line descends from Sarissa. On your mum's side.”

“Precisely. I have checked, Ginevra. I am the last to carry Slytherin blood. Jocasta Splanger, who descended from another of Pwillym the second's children, passed away six years ago. I am the  _ last _ ,” Riddle spoke the last word firmly, trying to stress the importance of his connection to Slytherin himself. “I must do my bloodline right and become more than Salazar ever was.”

“Wouldn't it be better to have heirs to continue the Slytherin bloodline once you're gone?” Ginny asked hesitantly. She didn't want to seem like she was insinuating he should have any kids with her. That was  _ not _ what she was thinking at all. 

He eyed her warily, “That is something that crossed my mind briefly. But, no. I do not plan to die, Ginevra. I will be the last heir.” 

“That's not possible,” she retorted automatically, her heart pounding in her chest. Was he about to tell her about the Horcruxes? She instinctively leaned closer to him, eager for Riddle to tell her more. 

Smiling, Riddle cupped her face. It was a genuine smile, but one that radiated with indignance and evil. He leaned in toward her, “I have ways... ideas coming to fruition.”

His breath tickled her nose. She suddenly felt very warm, “Ideas?”

“I'm afraid I cannot share them, my apologies. You know, we ought to trace your line back too. Mayhaps, one of your ancestors wed into the Ravenclaw line. They were close after all. I admit, I have not done extensive research on the lines of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor yet,” Riddle seemed excited, there was a glow in his eyes that made Ginny nervous. 

She swallowed hard, unable to take her eyes away from his, “Oh. Maybe. Would it matter if I was related to Rowena Ravenclaw?” 

“It might,” he whispered and moved his hand to the back of her neck. “The things we could accomplish together... with two lines of the Founder's blood would be... magnificent.” 

He kissed her. It was a strange kiss. Hard. Firm. Frighteningly fierce. A thousand thoughts were rolling around inside her head that were being pushed aside by the ferocity of Tom Riddle's lips. He was hungry for her, hands wandering up the side of her form. Part of her wanted to yank herself away and pry further into the ideas he would not share, but another part wanted to keep going and enjoy the feeling of Tom's hands caressing the side of her breasts. She moaned into his mouth as he cupped them through her blouse. Tom barely ever touched her, nor had they done anything beyond kissing outside of the single day in the library over holiday break. Ginny longed for more.

He pulled away, leaving her breathless and wanting, “If I could show the world the true power of Salazar Slytherin... with you by my side, as another with ancient blood...” 

Ginny's blood ran cold. She wasn't anyone important. Not really anyway. She didn't have the slightest inkling if her alias was of importance either. A clock started to tick in her head. How much longer did she have before Riddle deemed her unworthy? What if he dropped her as soon as he learned she was unimportant? She  _ had _ to do something. Soon. She had to stop his quest for glory and his quest to be immortal. Ginny didn't have time to think of an idea before Riddle kissed her again.

“Ahem, ahem,” the librarian cleared her throat from nearby. Ginny practically leapt away from Tom's wandering hands and her face paled. Madame Ingram did not look pleased, “Students ought to be better behaved! I am disappointed in you, Riddle. You are a Prefect! I will be speaking to your Head of House about this inappropriate conduct! Out! Both of you!”

  
  


Professor Slughorn was at a loss at how to reprimand either of them. It had been quite comical from Ginny's perspective, though Tom had found it embarrassing. The large man spluttered with his face red and hands wringing, muttering about children not fooling around at school. As soon as it looked like they were about to get a sex education lesson from Slughorn, Riddle quickly to reassured him it wouldn't happen again. The two were excused from his office without detention. 

After wishing her a goodnight, Tom retreated to his dormitory and Ginny hurried up to hers. She had a hard time falling asleep that night and when she did, she dreamt of bloodshed. 

  
  


Bleary-eyed, Ginny made her way down to the Great Hall with Ornella chatting amicably about how she was talking with  _ Rathmore Plunkett _ regularly. Ros was feeling unwell and took off to the hospital wing for a pepper-up potion first thing that morning. 

Ginny was having a rough time following all of what Ornella was saying. She had not slept well at all. Her dreams were plagued by death and destruction, forcing her to relive some of the worst moments of the final battle and her past. Ginny had woken up right after the diary version of Riddle had whispered into her ear, “ _ You can tell me anything, Ginny _ ...”

The aura of the Great Hall was tense and filled with whispers. Ginny could not help but wonder if someone died again. Her eyes raked over the Great Hall, trying to figure out what was going on. It wasn’t just one table that was buzzing with quiet voices and an eerie gloom, it was all of them. Even Slytherins. Perplexed, Ginny and Nella shared worried glances. 

“Almost everyone has the  _ Prophet  _ out,” Ginny noted in a hurry. “C'mon, let's go see what it is.” Her heart fluttered in panic as she and Nella rushed over toward their House table. 

“Tom, what is it?” Ginny questioned him in a firm voice, touching his shoulder as she came up behind him. She climbed into the spot beside him as Avery shifted to make room for her. She noted Mulciber and Malfoy sitting across from, both of whom seemed uninterested in the news.

“Grindelwald,” Riddle spoke without tearing his eyes from the article. “He attacked the Minister for Magic. He's dead.”

“ _ What?”  _ Ginny gasped and leaned over to read the front page article. The face of Grindelwald, smirking and scratching his eyebrow, looked up at her from one of the pictures. The other was of an older, dark-skinned man with round glasses; the Minister.

_ Late last night, after Koniforous Mustafa, Minister for the last sixteen years, gave his interview to esteemed Daily Prophet reporter, Buffy Terguin (see page 3 for the interview) regarding the change to the Muggleborn registry held at the Ministry of Magic, he was murdered in his own home. The telltale signs of Grindelwald were found at the scene of the crime... _

Ginny shuddered and poured herself a glass of water, thinking about the similarities between her world and this one. No matter which evil man it was, Pureblood superiority was at the forefront of it all. It made her skin crawl. Why couldn’t these psychos see there was little difference between being Pureblood or Muggleborn? At the end of the day, they all bleed red. 

“Are you feeling well, dear?” Tom’s voice tickled her ear, making her shudder again. His featherlight touch fell upon her shoulder.

She thought a moment before responding, “It’s just a bit scary, that’s all.” 

It was more than scary, if she wanted to be honest. The murder was disturbing, vile, and asinine. She had no attachment to Koniforous Mustafa; had little inkling about his policies, but his death reminded her of the misery at home. It was the same as the countless deaths Ginny had read about or seen where those who protested against blood elitism had been killed. There was a desperate feeling in her abdomen and a burning sensation in the back of her eyes. What could she do to make anything better? She was a seventeen year old nobody; insignificant and unimportant. Just a child playing at time meddler. 

Tom said nothing, but patted her delicately on the shoulder before returning to read the paper and eat his breakfast. Ginny was glad he kept silent. She wasn’t sure she was up for a discussion on the matter.

The overall atmosphere of the day was solemn. People mostly whispered amongst each other, even in class. The professors were also distracted, but it made for an easy day of lessons for the entire school. Dumbledore had even forgone giving homework for the day. Ginny couldn’t even bring herself to be thrilled about that. 

An uneasy, apprehensive rock sat in her stomach. She was starting to doubt herself and everything she’d done thus far, yet again. Her confidence wavered as she trudged back to the dormitories, trailing behind a small group of Slytherins after supper. Ginny knew she was brave and strong, but it was hard to be those things when she had no idea if any of her actions would make a difference. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, like a bird trying to escape it’s confines. 

What would Harry say? What would her mum think? How would her brothers encourage her?

Well, Ginny knew the whole lot of them would be disgusted by her snogging Voldemort, but they would be supportive of her time meddling in hopes of a brighter future.

She wordlessly changed into a tan nightgown and pulled the curtains shut around her bed. It was unlikely Ginny would get much sleep, not with her thoughts running wild. 

What would her father do? Arthur was a tinkerer; enjoyed exploring the unknown and diving headfirst into figuring things out. He would tell Ginny to follow her gut, to keep her head high and never doubt herself. Easier said than done, of course. Arthur Weasley always had faith in his only daughter. Always told her how much he believed in her. Even after the diary incident in her first year, when Ginny had been so reluctant to return to school, her dad told her how brave and brilliant she was. He knew she could, and would, not let a single, awful incident drag her down for eternity. Arthur said the trauma would make her stronger, harden her heart a bit, but he had all the faith in the world that she’d persevere. Could Ginny persevere now too?

Maybe Fred and George would tease her about the situation and make some crass jokes, but they always told her that if one had nerve, they could do just about anything. Ginny was filled with nerve, she was just losing her firm grip on the feeling. Fred would reprimand her for doubting, while George would give her silly ideas. Those boys believed in their sister to rock the world. 

The hours passed as Ginny dwelled on the future. She thought over the encouraging things her friends and family would say and the warnings they might have impressed on to her. Their non-existent support filled her with dread. Could she give them all a better future? Would making Tom Riddle fall in love with her make it so James and Lily Potter lived? Would there be no diary incident? No Ministry battle in her fourth year? Cedric Diggory could live, Dumbledore would live, Colin Creevey too. So many people would not be killed if Tom Riddle did not become Lord Voldemort.

But would she be able to be a part of that future? Would she exist? The mere idea of her mother not knowing who she was; never feeling the warmth of her hugs again, sent a wave of nausea up her stomach. Maybe Harry would fall in love with someone else. Would Ginny have to watch them from afar, while she grew old and remained unfamiliar? The unknown made her feel so torn, so weak. Where was her Gryffindor bravery now? 

Perhaps it had died the moment she’d been sorted into Slytherin.

Unable to sleep, Ginny tiptoed down to the empty common room and curled up in a seat by the fire. She watched the flames dance quietly among the wood, wishing she could be sitting with Ron by the fire at home playing Chess. She wanted Bill to ruffle her hair, she longed to make fun of Fleur with Hermione. Ginny wished to eat her mother’s cooking and watch her dad mess with Muggle contraptions in the shed. She wanted to see Harry again, to look into those beautiful green eyes and forget about Tom Riddle. 

It was late now, approaching midnight as she tried to calm her throbbing heart. This was too much. McGonagall shoved too hefty of a task on the girl and Ginny didn’t know what the hell she was supposed to do. The answer was not simple, the results not easy to see. What would Harry have done? Would Hermione have concocted a plan within a week and already executed it? Ginny had never really been a hero. She just trailed after the Golden Trio and hoped she’d do some good. 

Tears trickled down her cheeks, dripping off of her chin and onto her chest. She didn’t bother to wipe them away as she stared into the fire. More than anything, Ginny wanted to go home. She was tired of secrets, tired of trying to figure Tom out, frustrated at her own lack of plan. Most of all, Ginny was sick of the doubt and panic that rampaged within her like an angry lion. 

Knowing that there was a part of her that genuinely held feelings for Tom Riddle made her a little nauseous, as well as angry with herself. Eleven year old Ginny already fell for him once, why did she have to do it again? Was she truly so foolish? Harry was who she loved, right? Just Harry, the adorable Boy-Who-Lived who liked Quidditch and goofing off. Not Tom Riddle, who was uptight and evil. 

“Ginevra? What are you doing up so late? You should--”

Her blood turned to ice as the curious murmur of her boyfriend caught her attention. Ginny hadn’t heard anyone enter the Common Room. She was too stunned to wipe her face or come up with an excuse. He had likely already seen her crying. Ginny stayed quiet, refusing to look at him or reply, and completely unable to control her eyes from leaking further.

The couch sunk slightly with his weight joining her. He remained silent as she continued to cry wordlessly. Riddle probably didn’t know how to handle it, perhaps wanted to run away from it. She didn’t expect him to stay. Compassion was not something Voldemort knew. His apparent interest in her was phony; he desired the bloodline and connection he believed Ginny held as a Pyrites. She choked back a sob, hating herself for letting him witness her breakdown. 

An arm around her shoulder caught her off-guard, making her gasp. Ginny found herself being pulled against Tom’s side with her head tucked into his shoulder. The shock and disbelief stiffened her. He said nothing, nor did he rub her back or do anything she might have expected from anyone else. Regardless, the meaning of his action was not lost on her. There was no one around to witness this, yet Tom Riddle still offered comfort to her. It was not a facade, it was not to show the world that he was a normal boy. He was making a genuine effort to be caring toward her. The notion that it could have been just another one of his tactics was something Ginny was highly aware of. At the moment, it didn’t matter. She hurt and he was here.

Her cries continued for a while longer, tears soaking Riddle’s vest. Still, he did not speak or do anything but hold Ginny tightly to his side while she let her pain and sorrows free. Ginny’s breath was ragged and her head throbbed dully by the time she finally began to compose herself. She sighed and mumbled thickly, “I’m sorry Tom.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry,” Riddle loosened his grip on her and she pulled away to sit up straight.

Ginny rubbed at her eyes and dabbed at her nose with the sleeve of her nightgown, “I got your vest gross and I’m being sulky. I hate it.”

“You had a moment of weakness, many have those now and again,” Riddle explained as if he were talking to a child. “I hope you are feeling better now.”

“Sort of, I guess.”

“An improvement from your prior state,” he replied curtly. “I’m surprised it took you this long to break down. You are quite strong for a woman. I hope your outburst has relieved you some. One must find an outlet for their pain, or it becomes too much to handle.”

Ginny couldn’t bring herself to make any snappy remarks to his sexist statements. Instead, she rubbed her eyes again, “Thank you for comforting me, Tom.”

“You are welcome, Ginevra. I would prefer not to have to partake in this again, if you don’t mind. However, I am here for you if you need me. As your boyfriend, I would hope you can trust me with what ails you,” Riddle spoke in a clumsy sort of way, as if he wasn’t sure what he was saying. The territory was unfamiliar. 

“Do you really care for me?” Ginny found herself questioning without thinking about it. “The others... they think you must, since you’ve not been in any other relationships and there were many opportunities to do so. But, I--I wonder if it might be for other reasons that you’re dating me. Surely, it’s not to tie yourself with a Pureblood. Kassimira was a Pureblood and you turned her down. I’m not any prettier than she was either. I just don’t understand, Tom. Why me?”

Tom scooted toward her, his hand pushing strands of red from her tear-stained face, “Ginevra, I will admit truthfully that I was first enthralled with you because of your familial history and connections. Your surname is one shrouded in mystery due to your father keeping the remaining family members hidden. You are the last, outside of your Uncle. The idea that you can trace your ancestors back to a founder, just as I can, is appealing to me. That was what drew me to you, first and foremost.”

“Okay,” Ginny replied dumbly, though she wasn’t surprised. Her stomach sank.

“I’m not finished,” Riddle stroked her sticky cheek gingerly. “I mentioned to you before that you were different from the other girls here. I stand by that notion. There’s something about you I find... hmm, attractive. Outside of your physique, I mean. One would have to be blind not to notice your beauty. You have pervaded my thoughts. I found myself watching you out of the corner of my eye, looking for reasons to speak to you, feeling envy when other men flirted with you. This was all unfamiliar to me. Never once in my life, have I ever felt envious of another man with a pretty girl. So, Ginevra, I will say this plainly and I assure you this is the first I have ever admitted such a thing -- I am quite infatuated with you.”

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh. Not in a teasing way, but almost in relief. She leaned into him and pressed her lips to his, not wanting to think any further about the problems that awaited answers. Riddle had to at least mean some of what he said, right? 

As his hands wound into her long red locks, Ginny found herself relaxing into his touch. The woes and worries melted away and confidence bubbled forth once again. She could do this. She could fix things. There was no more room for doubt. Ginny Weasley was going to break Tom Riddle.


	13. Chapter Twelve

The Valentine's Day Hogmeade trip announcement went up the first week of February, creating a lot of buzz and gossip during that first Saturday in Sarissa’s Haunt. Ornella had been asked to accompany Rathmore Plunkett already and Ginny was listening to Lucretia and Theodisia hound Nella about it. To say Ginny was bored would be an understatement. Nella had already talked her ear off about Plunkett. In fact, the bloke seemed to be all Nella could think about. It was sort of driving Ginny mad. Plunkett was nice, and incredibly handsome, but she didn’t think she could bear to discuss his muscles with Nella anymore. 

Doing her best to ignore the conversation at hand, Ginny sipped on her white wine and kept an eye on the entrance. Tom was going to be a little late, as he was tutoring a fifth year as a favour to Slughorn. The boy was someone with well known parents, so Sluggy hadn’t wanted to simply fail the kid. Heaven forbid the man lose one of his many connections.

Ginny sighed and meandered over to the refreshment table, topping off her glass. White wine was much more delightful than red, Ginny decided. She whirled around to return to the girls, but was caught off guard by Walburga Black standing right behind her.

“Merlin, you startled me, Walburga,” Ginny clasped a hand to her chest and tried to appear as if she were not the slightest bit uneasy around the hateful woman.

“My apologies,” the hefty Slytherin simpered. She stretched a heavily jeweled hand out to touch the necklace Ginny was wearing, Walburga eyed it carefully, “I see you wearing this often as of late. A gift?”

Ginny nodded slowly, wishing Nella and Ros weren’t too preoccupied to save her. The ginger-haired girl took a sip of wine before replying, “Yes, a gift from Tom. Christmas present.”

Walburga dropped the pendant, letting it flop back against Ginny’s chest firmly. She was a few inches taller than Ginny, so the older girl stared down at her with a perturbed grimace, “What a shame. You are better than this, Pyrites. He gave you rubbish, yet you wear it with pride. Goodness, it makes me want to gag. The boy claims he has wizarding blood, but I am well-versed in the old families and know he carries no name of worth. You, on the other hand, do. Your blood is more revered than my own, which is not something I take lightly.” 

Ginny narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin, “Tom’s blood status doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care about any of that.”

Walburga rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her wide hips, “I am well aware of that fact. It’s revolting how everyone fawns over you. I’d have kicked you out of this little club ages ago. You’re just a Mudblood loving, waste of a good bloodline. It’s unfortunate you are an orphan. I would have arranged for you to wed one of my brothers had you any parents to make decisions for your future. Alphard is young, and Cygnus even younger, but we deserve your name on our family tree. Maybe then you would have seen sense instead of fraternizing with those who are beneath us.”

“Beneath you, maybe, but not me. Aren’t you betrothed to your own cousin? Doesn’t that revolt you?” Ginny snapped at the girl, not backing down or cowering as others did with Walburga Black.

The seventh year sneered down at Ginny, “I would much rather wed my cousin than sully myself with dirty blood. Watch your back, Pyrites. Everyone else may be weak to your wiles, but not I.” Walburga lifted her chin and pushed past Ginny, bumping her hard enough to knock her into the wine table. 

Looking around, it appeared that only Maria Malfoy had noticed the altercation and was eyeing Ginny curiously. Not wanting to make any more of a scene, Ginny downed her wine and refilled yet again. Tom needed to show up quickly. Ginny was over this night and had a really strong urge to hex Walburga. Gritting her teeth, Ginny decided to approach Malfoy, who was fiddling with a radio. Lucretia had mentioned it might be nice to have dancing that evening, so Abraxas was working on making it happen.

“If I murder Walburga, would you visit me in Azkaban?” Ginny muttered as she sauntered up beside him.

Abraxas glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, “What did she do now?”

Ginny growled angrily, “Barking up the wrong tree, that’s what. Whom I choose to be in a relationship isn’t her business, but she acts like everyone should get her approval first.”

Malfoy stopped fiddling with the radio, turning to give Ginny a solemn look, “Well, it isn’t like you are doing yourself any favours by choosing Riddle. I already told you I thought you could do better. I don’t hate Riddle I guess, even if he isn’t Pure. But you? You’re special, Ginny. I might have asked you out ages ago if it weren’t for Riddle.”

“Oh,” she replied dumbly, her mouth suddenly dry. She hadn’t been expecting that confession. Ginny bit her lip, “I’m sorry, Abraxas.”

The boy shrugged a single shoulder, “Don’t be. I know you’re not my property. Besides, my mum is really keen on betrothing me to Capella McTavish for some reason. So, it might not have mattered if I fancied you. I hope this doesn’t make things uncomfortable between us. I shouldn’t have said anything. I really am sorry, Ginny.”

“It’s alright,” Ginny whispered. She took another long sip of her wine and sighed, “This has not been my night, has it?”

Abraxas turned his attention to the radio once more, tapping his wand against the buttons and muttering, “I suppose not. Don’t listen to Walburga. She’s just bitter about everything. It wouldn’t matter who you were intending to marry, she’d find a way to despise you.”

“Merlin’s beard, I’m not intending on marrying Riddle,” Ginny spluttered in irritation. It drove her barking mad how quickly everyone made assumptions. “We’re seeing one another. That’s it, right now. I mean, the bloke will barely touch me. I am not sure I want to be sentenced to a lifetime with the world’s biggest prude.”

Abraxas frowned at her, “I’m not sure that’s something I needed to know about. I, er, apologize? I think? Bloody hell, this radio just will not work.” He thwacked his wand against the largest knob and mumbled a few spells. Sparks shot out from his wand and the radio turned on, filling the room with the soft croons of a gentleman with the deepest voice Ginny had ever heard.

Ginny finished the glass of wine, “Great job. Want to dance with me? Unless that makes you uncomfortable.”

Abraxas smiled politely and took the empty glass from her grasp. He set it down gently on the table and took her hand, “It would be my pleasure.”

The two joined the small crowd that had begun pairing off in the middle of the room. Ginny was quick to notice that Walburga was on the far wall, glowering at everyone. It seemed no one had asked the Pureblood cow to dance with them. Ginny resisted the urge to snicker or stick her tongue out at Walburga. Her childish fantasy was cut short by the feeling of Abraxas’s hands on her waist. Quickly, she placed her hands on his shoulders and the two began to sway to the music. 

“So, what is it about Riddle?” Malfoy finally spoke up, cautiously glancing at the entrance. 

“Are you asking what I like about him?”

Abraxas appeared abashed for a moment before nodding his head slowly, “Yeah. That.”

Ginny let out a slow breath, “He’s brilliant. I admire how driven he is. He’s confident and courteous. Practically perfect, on paper anyway. He can be a real prat sometimes, you know. Worse than any of my brother-- _ sisters _ .” She quickly recovered from her near blunder, “He tries so hard to strive for perfection and live up to what a Pureblood ought to be. I feel bad for him, sometimes. He shouldn’t have to do that. Tom’s sort of a dork, too. He knows an absurd amount of useless facts about Hogwarts. It’s quite adorable, actually. He--oh, I’m rambling. This is so rude of me, I’m sorry Abraxas.”

“It’s not hurting me,” he replied casually. If he caught Ginny’s mistake, he did not acknowledge it. “I promise. Just because I had a bit of a crush on you doesn’t mean I can’t respect your decisions. And I do, Ginny. I respect your choices, even if I question them. Riddle is a sinister person and I think I’m more bothered by the idea of you falling in line with him than I am of not having you as my own.”

“But don’t you support his views?” Ginny questioned, tripping slightly over one of Abraxas’s feet. Her face fell into his firm chest, which he quickly corrected.

“Yeah, sure, mostly,” Abraxas responded, not quite meeting her gaze. “It’s no secret I think Purebloods are superior. I just can’t see you as his evil queen, you know? And, don’t laugh at me Ginny, but I’m honestly spooked by the idea of killing anyone. I think if Riddle acquires any sort of power, he’ll expect that from us.”

“Oh, Abraxas,” Ginny whispered, wrapping her arms around him tighter. “You don’t have to murder. You can believe your pure bloodline gives you a bonus in life, but there is no reason to murder anyone below your station. I don’t support those beliefs, you know I don’t. You’re a good person, Abraxas. You should never feel like you must do something you don’t feel comfortable doing. I don’t think Riddle would make you kill anyone.” That was a lie, but there was no way she would admit to Abraxas Malfoy that she knew what exactly her boyfriend was.

“I don’t know, Ginny, I really don’t know. This world is a mess and I don’t know what I’m supposed to believe. It’s easier to go with what I’m used to and not think about it,” Abraxas admitted.

Ginny pursed her lips, feeling the wine fogging her head, “Listen, Malfoy, that’s no way to live your life. Just going with what’s easy means you’re always going to live with doubt in your heart. You’ll always wonder what would have happened if you hadn’t kept quiet. You know, if you have doubts, this would be the best time to express them. You are well-liked and hold sway, even if you don’t think you do. People might listen to you. We will never have change or tolerance if everyone with influence just keeps their mouths shut all the time.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Absolutely. But, better to live without regrets than die filled with them.”

“I don’t know, Ginny. I’ll try.”

She smiled at him, admiring him for a moment. During her months here, Ginny had not taken much time to admire many of the boys here, but Malfoy was quite handsome. He didn’t have the soft, delicate features Ginny remembered on Draco. Abraxas was more athletic; his face less round. His hair was not as white-blonde as she had seen on both Draco and Lucius. There was more yellow in it. She liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and the dimples in his cheeks. Ginny had to shake herself before she continued to stare. She cleared her throat and began to let go of Malfoy’s neck, “I’m going to get another drink.”

“One more dance?” Abraxas placed a hand on hers to keep her from leaving him. His eyes pleaded with hers.

“One more,” Ginny agreed, replacing her hands around him. She let her head rest on his shoulder, wondering why she was suddenly noticing Abraxas. Of course, she’d been too preoccupied with Riddle to pay attention to anyone else. Besides, Abraxas Malfoy was not who Ginny needed to deal with to prevent an awful future, though changing his mind most certainly didn’t hurt. Perhaps, his future family would be less of a thorn in everyone’s side if Abraxas stood up against blood elitism. 

Tom was handsome too, Ginny thought to herself as she tried not to think about how Abraxas’s arms felt around her. Tom had nice eyes; hazel and a little on the larger side, but they suited him. His face was flawless, he was tall and slender, and Ginny liked running her hands through his soft hair. And his voice... Ginny loved that sultry voice of his.

But neither of them were Harry.

Ginny’s heart twinged at the thought of her beloved ex-boyfriend. Thoughts of Harry came less frequently these days, but she felt guilt surge within her every time she remembered him. It was hard not to feel guilty when she was fraternizing with Harry’s enemies. Ginny had let Harry’s ultimate nemesis touch her, kiss her, and hold her. She was letting Draco’s grandfather dance with her and divulge his doubts to her. Wine had been shared with the family members of people that had abandoned Harry; abandoned the Order, and refused to fight against evil. She was moving on from Harry and it scared her.

“Are you alright?” Abraxas whispered into her ear.

Ginny pulled away slightly to peer up at him, “Yeah, just thinking... and, well, you know, wine.”

Abraxas did not appear as if he believed her, “I’m here to listen if you need it.”

“Thank you.”

“You really are beautiful, you know,” Malfoy whispered just barely loud enough for Ginny to hear. His silvery-blue eyes pierced into her brown ones. He seemed started by his admission, flushing, as if those words hadn’t meant to be said aloud.

“Abraxas, I don’t--”

“Excuse me,” Riddle’s voice made the two jump apart instantly. Abraxas at least had the tact to look ashamed of himself. The blonde refused to meet Riddle’s gaze, instead looking at Ginny with a plea for help.

“You’re here,” Ginny breathed, moving toward Riddle. She knew he was upset, but if Riddle had let her speak, he would have heard her telling Abraxas she didn’t have feelings for him. She would have relinquished her hold on the boy and left him on the dance floor. Alas, Tom had interrupted before Ginny could act. 

Tom’s fierce glare stopped her in her tracks. She kept her arm stretched out for his, but paused to peer up at him curiously. There was well-concealed rage in his eyes. But also betrayal, Ginny noticed. Her heart plummeted into her stomach. 

“We only danced,” Abraxas offered weakly, taking a step back from his irate classmate. “I-uhm. Well, I’ll see you later Ginny.” 

“Tom--”

“May we speak outside?” Tom hissed sharply, taking Ginny’s hand in his and pulling her behind him without waiting for an answer. The two hurried out of the secret room and down the corridor, away from curious eyes. He opened the nearest door and dragged her inside with him. It was a supply room, but not one of those tiny ones like the one Ginny had snogged Dean Thomas in a few times. This was a large one, with several shelves and space to walk around some. It smelled strongly like lemon cleaner and musty water. 

“Tom, look, I--”

“Do you fancy Malfoy?” Tom spat out bitterly, his fists clenched. Ginny noticed his wand was out; being gripped tightly in his right hand.

“No, not at all,” Ginny replied quietly. “You interrupted me before I could tell him that. I was going to tell him I wasn’t interested.”

“He has feelings for you then.”

Ginny sighed and resigned herself to telling the truth, “A bit, yeah.”

Riddle began to pace down the aisle in front of the shelves. He ran a hand through his dark hair and let out a howl of anger, “Merlin, Ginevra. It feels like I have to fend everyone off of you. I cannot go a week without overhearing someone making inappropriate remarks about you. It takes every shred of willpower I have not to curse them into oblivion and tell them that you’re  _ mine _ .”

“Tom-”

“But you are not really mine, are you? I have no claim to you. Our relationship could end at any moment and you could have anyone you wanted. Men would line up for a chance to be with the beautiful and pure Ginevra Pyrites. I cannot seem to control myself when it comes to you. I want to harm anyone who even looks your way, but I refrain. But Malfoy, he knows. He  _ knows _ and yet he still tried to take you from me,” Tom finally stopped pacing and gave her a hard, blazing look. The kind of look Ginny knew she’d once given Harry. 

She shivered as he strode up to her and pressed her against the door, kissing her hard. He bit her lip gently as his hands wandered up and down her waist, fingers tickling at her sides. Tom nipped at her once more before slipping his tongue into her mouth; his grip tightening on her waist. Ginny responded enthusiastically; her hands caressing his shoulders and chest, her nails raking down his back. He growled into her mouth, pressing into her harder. His wand clattered to the floor.

Ginny worked on instinct, along with the help of several glasses of wine. She moaned his name into his lips, hands slipping down to his chest once more. Instead of reaching for the buttons of his shirt, she started fiddling with her own. The white buttons felt awkward in her shaky and alcohol fueled hands. It seemed to take a moment for Tom to realize what Ginny was doing. When he pulled away and looked down to see her blouse unbuttoned nearly completely, he stilled.

“Tom,” Ginny practically purred as she worked on the last few buttons, struggling slightly. “I promise you, I’ve no interest in Malfoy or anyone else. Let me show you.” She slowly reached for his hands, bringing them up to her chest. She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him again.

His cool touch barely grazed over her bosom and Ginny practically melted into him. She was so desperate for the affection and sensual touching of a relationship. It was torture sometimes to be dating such a prude. Riddle often made excuses about preserving her virtue, which Ginny found hilarious as her virtue was long gone. That was not something she would ever be able to admit to him. Ginny’s breath hitched when long fingers flit over her nipples. 

“Ginevra,” Tom whispered into her lips, kissing her softly. “Merlin, Ginevra, what are you doing to me?”

“I’m turning you on, that’s what I’m doing,” Ginny replied with a smirk. To prove her point, she reached out and let a hand slowly stroke his hardened length through his trousers. “See?”

He chuckled darkly as his fingers pinched her nipples through her plain, white bra. Ginny bucked against him without thinking and barely held back a loud moan. One of his hands moved to her waist, keeping a firm grip on her hip as if to keep her from grinding on his leg. To be fair, she really wanted to and it drove her mad that he was preventing her from doing so. Before Ginny could remark, Tom used his right hand to cup her breast gently and put his lips on her neck. 

She bit down on her own tongue as he pressed soft kisses along the nape of her neck, biting down gently on the skin there. Ginny let out a gasp, which only encouraged Tom to nibble the flesh further.

“Am I going to need to wear a scarf for a few days?” Ginny whispered weakly, eyes closed as his lips made their way to her ear lobe.

He laughed coldly into her ear, “No, I would never shame you, my dear.” His tongue trailed over her ear lobe and back down her neck. 

Merlin’s fucking pants was she turned on. Ginny tried in vain to buck her hips, but his grip kept her from moving. She whimpered and reached out to graze him through his pants, “Tom, let me touch you. Please. I want to.”

“Ginevra,” Tom’s voice cracked slightly. His mouth still traveled up and down her neck, only stopping to speak to her, “I’m afraid I will not be able to control myself if--”

“Bugger your control,” Ginny breathed, squeezing her legs together. “I want you, Tom.”

Teeth dragged their way down her neck, past her clavicle, and nibbled on the bit of exposed flesh of her breasts. Tom pulled away and stared hungrily into her eyes, “I want you as well, Ginevra. But, I’ll not sully you in a supply room. No matter how delectable you are.” His eyes flit down to her exposed chest. With what seemed like immense effort, Tom Riddle pulled away from her and took a deep breath, trying to compose himself.

Ginny pouted as she slowly began to button up her blouse. The pulsing feeling between her legs did not dissipate. Was it wrong of her to feel so turned on by the boy who would become the man that everyone in her time would fear? Maybe so, but what did it matter? She had jumped off the ledge and was committed to working her way into Tom Riddle’s cold, dead heart to bring the life back into it. 

If tonight had proved anything, it was that the teenage Voldemort wanted to sleep with her. He wanted her, but cared enough to not let their first time together happen in a dingy, smelly supply room. If that wasn’t progress, what was? Ginny clung to the hope that there was something genuine between them. 

And perhaps, she was feeling something genuine for him too.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

There was an unspoken grievance between Tom and Abraxas, that only Ginny seemed to be able to see. She did not miss the sharp looks they gave each other, or how Tom would place himself at her side anytime the bloke was around. Abraxas seemed uneasy, frequently glancing at Ginny with concern or dismay. She did not have a chance to speak to him in private, not with Tom hovering as often as he was. 

There were several occasions in which Ginny had been tempted to talk to Ornella about the situation. If it weren’t for how gossipy Nella could be, Ginny might have given in. But, the last thing she wanted was for the entire school to perpetuate the drama. She really didn’t want anyone else to get involved.

With a bit of free time after Care of Magical creatures on the Friday before the Valentine's trip to Hogsmeade, Ginny found herself wandering the courtyard. It was still chilly out, but there was a glimmer of sunlight peeking out from behind the clouds. It was nice enough weather for her to sit comfortably in a thick cloak. She took a seat on a marble bench, dropping her full bookbag at her feet. Ginny leaned back on her hands, gazing up at the sky. 

It was hard to believe that she had been a part of this timeline for over six months now. It simultaneously felt like Ginny had been here for forever, but also as if it passed by in a flash. It made her eyes cross if she dwelled on the feeling too much. Instead, she started thinking about her boyfriend and how things seemed to be changing between them.

When their relationship began, back in October, Ginny hadn’t felt so strongly. It was more like a dare she couldn’t pass up. The mere idea of dating him had been the preferred alternative to killing him. But now? Well, ever since that fateful night the prior weekend where Abraxas had confessed and Tom flew into a jealous rage, Ginny couldn’t help but feel... something heavy. 

Instead of wanting to see Tom to know what he was up to, she wanted to see him just because. His delicate kisses made her smile. She longed for him to touch her, she desired his presence. Even when he drove her mad with possessiveness, Ginny couldn’t help but want him to stay. Her admission of preferring him over Abraxas, as well as wanting to sleep with him, seemingly flipped a switch in Tom Riddle as well. He touched her face and hands more frequently, he whispered silly jests to her in classes that made her laugh and got them both in trouble. Tom smiled at her more and Ginny was starting to believe they might be real smiles.

What was happening? Was there truly a spark burning between them or was it just another tactic of Riddle’s? Ginny didn’t want to let her guard down, but it was hard not to. She felt something for him. It made her feel incredibly guilty to admit it, but she did. Ginny Weasley had feelings for Tom Riddle. It was like she was eleven years old again, excited over the curious new friend she’d made in the diary. Except her present Tom Riddle seemed less likely to leave her body in a chamber. At least she hoped so.

It would have been simpler to date Abraxas Malfoy.

She wouldn’t have wondered as much about the possibility of a knife in her back if she had. Malfoy would have been easier to sway to the good side, since he already held some doubts. He was attractive, most certainly. 

But, Ginny felt nothing for him. Nothing more than friendship. 

Maybe she liked picking the troublesome ones. Merlin only knew how difficult it was to finally get Harry to notice her.

Ah, there was the guilt again. It burned her insides when she thought of Harry. What would he think of her offering to have sex with Lord Voldemort? It would likely disgust him. Ginny wouldn’t have blamed Harry for judging her. She sort of judged herself for the notion, if she were honest. 

And despite that, she still wanted to fuck Tom.

Maybe she was just some slutty urchin, like Walburga Black thought she was. Ginny laughed bitterly at the thought. 

The sound of approaching footsteps startled Ginny. She jerked her head toward the noise and found herself perplexed by the sight of Maria Malfoy shuffling toward her looking incredibly uncomfortable and uneasy. The shy girl had her light hair braided and swung over her left shoulder. A pair of pretty teardrop earrings decorated her ears. Maria attempted to give Ginny a friendly smile, but the shy girl made it look more like a grimace.

“Maria?” Ginny asked slowly, sitting up straight.

“Hi, Ginny,” the timid girl tucked her hands behind her back. She stood about a foot away from Ginny, looking painfully embarrassed. She bit her lip nervously before blurting out, “M-my brother sent me to talk to you.”

Ginny was taken aback, “He what now?”

“M-my brother, Abraxas. He asked me to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

Maria took a deep breath, eyes focused on the nearby rosebush, “Abraxas says he’s sorry. He h-hopes he didn’t cause you any t-trouble. He says he meant what he said. I-if you need him, he’ll come r-running. He wants you to know that.”

“Oh,” Ginny was flabbergasted, unsure of how to respond. “And he won’t talk to me himself because of Tom, I take it?”

The nervous seventh year nodded her head, “He’s really fond of you, y-you know. I can tell.”

“Abraxas?”

“Yes, Abraxas,” Maria said softly. “He’s a wonderful boy. He’s loyal. I, er, know you don’t fancy him. But, he’s a g-good friend. Abraxas has always been good to me, he’s protective of me. He cares for your wellbeing t-t-too.” She fiddled with her braid a moment, unsure of what else to say. Before Ginny could formulate a reply, the shy girl had taken off.

“That was bloody weird,” Ginny groaned, rubbing her forehead. She would need to find a time to talk to Abraxas, alone, one of these days. Ginny didn’t fault him for avoiding her. Likely, Abraxas was hoping to avoid creating more drama with Riddle or causing trouble for anyone. She didn’t want to have to have secret friends though. Tom would need to get over himself and accept that Ginny considered Malfoy a friend. She would give him a little more time before bringing it up.

Ginny’s thoughts wandered to the upcoming trip to Hogsmeade. It would be hard to pretend that she had never been there before. Although, she wasn’t sure how much had changed between now and her future. 

She wondered what Tom would want to do in Hogsmeade. He wasn’t much of a sweets person, so the candy shop wouldn’t be a place of interest for him. She highly doubted Tom would have any interest in the joke shop, so that was out. Ginny suspected he would enjoy the supplies shop and Scrivenshaft’s. The Shrieking Shack didn’t exist yet in this time, so there would be nothing there to see. Regardless of where they went, it was sure to at least be a nice trip out of the castle. Something new for the both of them. Ginny had requested extra money be sent from the vault of her deceased, fake family in lieu of the trip. She still felt bad for using their money, but as Dumbledore said -- it was likely better in her hands than in the hands of Alwyn Pyrites, for use in support of Grindelwald. 

A gust of cool air caused her to shiver. Ginny rose from the bench and stretched, wondering if Tom had finished his last class for the day. She smiled to herself as she headed back inside to look for him.

  
  


The morning of the Hogsmeade trip, Ginny was rudely awoken by the sound of squealing and someone hopping into her bed.

“Get out of my bed, Nella,” Ginny kicked out a leg, trying to knock the excited girl off. 

Nella simply giggled and tugged at the blanket, “It’s Hogsmeade weekend, Ginny! Your first trip! Riddle’s first trip! Your first date outside the castle! And my first date with Rathmore! Eeeeeeeeee!” 

Ginny pulled a pillow over her head in an attempt to muffle the squealing noises her friend was making.

“Jesus Christ, Nella, shut up!” Elizabeth called from across the room. “Some of us want to sleep in on the weekend, aye?”

“Sorry Lizzie!” Nella replied bashfully. She continued her bothering of Ginny, just in a less obnoxious tone. “Gin-Gin! I need you to help me choose my dress.”

Slowly sitting up, Ginny blinked a few times. She stared at the excited face of Ornella Greengrass and groaned, “Mmm. Shower first, then I’ll help. Get off my bed, woman. And don’t call me  _ Gin-Gin. _ ”

Giggling, the blonde girl rolled off of Ginny’s bed and sauntered back to her own. Nella began to rifle through her trunk while Ginny made her way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Feeling a little more alert after the warm shower, Ginny returned to her bed and slipped her underthings on. Nella was waiting patiently, with a handful of dresses in her hands. The beaming girl snuck into the curtains of Ginny’s bed area and shimmied out of her own nightgown.

“Okay, Ginny, is this too fancy for a date for Hogsmeade?” Nella held up a deep red cocktail gown that seemed much more appropriate for an event rather than a foray into Hogsmeade. Ginny’s raised eyebrow told Nella such. “Okay fine,” Nella tossed that one onto the bed and held up another choice. It was periwinkle blue, with white lace around the neckline. It looked like it would reach Nella’s ankles. Ginny shook her head.

“Nella, it’s February and it’s Hogsmeade. You’re not going to an engagement party or something. Where’s something a bit more casual?” Ginny took a look at some of the items in Nella’s hands, immediately chucking the poor choices onto the bed.

“I know,” Ornella sighed dramatically. “I just want to make a good impression on Rathmore.”

“You’ll make a good impression by being yourself. You don’t need to doll up or fawn over him, Nella. You’re fun and cheerful and easy to talk to. It’s going to be okay,” Ginny took one more dress out of Ornella’s arms and threw it aside. There was no way Ginny was letting Nella wear white on a first date.

“Thank you Ginny, I’m just so nervous. Well, how about this dress? It’s one of my favourites,” Nella bit her lip and held up a three-quarter sleeved, pastel pink dress with simple black buttons at the top. It was knee-length, with pleats in the skirt. The neckline was modest, but would suit a necklace. 

Ginny took it and held up to Nella’s form, smiling, “It’ll look beautiful on you. Much better choice. Maybe wear the necklace your dad got you for Christmas? It’s simple and would look nice without being too much, I think. You have that gray cloak too that would keep you warm but still look alright with the dress. What do you think?”

Nella thought a moment and giggled, “I think you’re right.” She pulled the pink dress over her head and spun around, showing off for Ginny. “Is it okay?”

“Definitely,” Ginny replied with a smile. She wasn’t much of a fashionista, but Ginny had faith that the dress did look nice on Ornella. Besides, it was unlikely that Rathmore Plunkett would care what she was wearing. He seemed pretty taken with the girl. 

The excited girl clapped her hands together and then motioned to Ginny’s bare form, “What are you wearing? Let me help?”

Ginny shrugged, “I haven’t the foggiest. Probably whatever skirt and top combo I can find that’s clean and matches.”

Her friend rolled her eyes and stared with exasperation written plainly across her face, “Ginny, please. How about you borrow one of my dresses? You’re a little shorter than I am, but bustier so I think it’ll even out. Hmm. Nella rifled through the few dresses that hadn’t been looked at before holding one up. “I think this would look lovely on you.”

Ginny eyed it warily, but couldn’t deny that her friend might be right. The dress was navy blue, with long sleeves. The bottom of the dress would touch just above her knees in the front and swoop down to her ankles in the back. There were little stars and moons sewn into sporadic areas of the dress. Nodding slowly, Ginny took the dress from Nella and slipped it on carefully. The dress was tight in the bust, but other than that, it was a good fit.

“You might pop right out of it, but it’s beautiful on you,” Ornella beamed brightly, touching Ginny’s shoulder to look her over. “Black flats and your dark cloak. I could lend you some jewelry--”

Ginny shook her head, “Nah, thank you. I’ll wear the necklace Tom got me and call it a day. Let's finish getting ready and head down to breakfast? I’m famished.”

Once the girls were ready, Ginny had to admit they both looked quite nice. She felt silly dressing up for something as mundane as a Hogsmeade trip, but it had been fun to get ready with Ornella. Ginny’s hair was now braided and tied off with navy ribbon, which looked quite nice. Nella kept her own long hair straight and loose. Excited, both girls chatted amicably down the steps to the common room and to the Great Hall. 

Tom was already seated, sipping tea and reading the Daily Prophet, as he did most mornings. He was so engrossed in the paper, that he nearly slopped his tea onto his slacks when Ginny kissed his head. 

“Morning, dear,” Tom replied weakly as he wiped off the tiny bit of tea that had spilled onto his hand. “You look nice.”

“Nella’s doing,” Ginny told him as she grabbed a piece of toast. “I hadn’t thought to put much effort into an outfit for Hogsmeade, but she insisted.” She glared at Nella, who was sitting across from the couple.

Nella grinned, “You liked it, don’t lie, Pyrites.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ginny rolled her eyes with a playful smile on her lips.

The trio talked about what they each might do in Hogsmeade while they ate. Tom input ever-so-often, but ultimately, Nella and Ginny led the conversation. After a while, they were joined by Rathmore Plunkett himself who had come to visit from the Ravenclaw table.

“Morning,” the pretty Quidditch player greeted them brightly. “Professor Mizuno said they will be letting us leave soon. Would you care to wait by the door with me, Ornella?”

Ornella blushed furiously and nodded, bouncing up from her seat in a hurry, “Of course. Sure. I’d love to.” The two waved goodbye to Ginny and Tom and walked arm-in-arm out of the Great Hall.

Ginny chortled, “Those two are kind of gross, aren’t they?”

“I think I am inclined to agree,” Tom remarked as he set his newspaper down. “I’m quite glad they didn’t ask us to join them. Not sure I could have stomached it.”

“Me either. Thank Merlin for little miracles, right?” Ginny smiled at him, pleased to see that Tom was in a fine mood this morning. “Are you about ready? I’m quite excited to see Hogsmeade. It’ll be nice to get off the grounds for a bit at least.”

Tom seemed perplexed for a moment. Before Ginny could ask, he took a deep breath and spoke, “Honestly, I’m not terribly excited. I’ve little money to my name and it’s quite shameful I cannot treat you properly.” The admission seemed to make him more ashamed than angry.

“Oh, Tom,” Ginny murmured, reaching out to take his hand. “We could just walk in the fresh air and window shop for all I care. I know you don’t want me treating you, but I could do that too. Honestly, I’m not bothered in the slightest. You’re sweet, but I’m just pleased to be spending the day with you outside of school.”

“If you’re sure,” Tom said weakly, standing up from the long table and holding out a hand to assist Ginny. “I am also looking forward to spending the day with you, Ginevra. Even if I can’t be a proper boyfriend.”

Ginny rose to her tiptoes to kiss him softly on the cheek, “You’re plenty proper. C’mon, let's get out of here. I hear it’s going to be a nice day today.”

The path to Hogsmeade was packed with students rushing off to the little village. The majority of the older students were paired off into couples, with girls dressed up and boys sneaking kisses onto the cheeks of their dates. Ginny felt completely bewildered by the difference. Sure, the Valentine’s Day trip was a popular event in her time as well, but nothing like this. It was like a romance novel exploded in front of her. One bloke was even reading a handwritten poem to a girl seated on a bench outside the castle, her face bright with tears and excitement. 

“These people are bloody bonkers,” Ginny whispered to Tom in horror. “Just to let you know, I’m not interested in any of what they’re doing. Please don’t read me poems in front of everyone or declare your love for me in song form. I might have to murder you. I’m serious, I’ll do it.”

Tom laughed; a loud, singsong sort of sound. Ginny had never heard anything so genuine escape him before. He smiled at her as of late, but never offered more than a polite chuckle. A smile tugged at her lips and a warmth pooled in her belly. She glanced up at him and vowed to commit this Voldemort to memory. Tom looked  _ happy _ ; no blank, emotionless eyes that had rarely matched what he was expressing. His lips were quirked into a boyish grin. His eyes were light, filled with emotion, and directed at  _ her _ . There was something about him that seemed like an entirely different person. The smooth, perfect face he normally wore had been replaced by the average seventeen year old boy. 

“So where to first, Tom?” Ginny hooked her elbow with his. “I’ve not got the foggiest where we should begin. There’s so much to see.”

“Bookshop?” he proposed, nearly causing Ginny to slip up. There hadn’t been a bookshop in her era. 

“Oh, er, that’s fine with me,” Ginny replied with some confusion. She supposed it made sense that there might be stores here that didn’t exist in the future and vice versa. Ginny allowed Tom to lead the way, listening to him talk about the new releases he was interested in reading at some point. He was such a bookworm, it reminded her of Hermione. And for once, that thought didn’t cause a cascade of feelings to flood her.

The bookstore was small and dusty, making Ginny’s nose itch. There was an enormous man perched at the register. He was so unbelievably tall, though not quite the size of someone like Hagrid. But, perhaps he looked so out of sorts because while being so big, the man was actually quite scrawny. She couldn’t help but stare in amazement for a moment before examining the rest of the shop.

There were portraits of what Ginny assumed were authors placed high on the walls. The shelves with books were crammed sort of close together. She was afraid that her hip might bump something and knock everything over. She could faintly hear some instrumental music playing from a room behind the register.

“Ah, they have the whole set of the Forbidden Magicks works,” Tom remarked excitedly. “Many places don’t keep that in stock anymore. I will have to keep this in mind.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose, “Forbidden Magicks? What would that be for? Not something illegal I hope.” She was hoping they would move on and he would forget these were here. Unlikely, but a girl could hope.

“Research,” was all Tom would say about the matter.

While Tom examined every inch of the shop, Ginny made her way to the front and looked at some of the new releases on a rack by the counter. There were some really strange things being advertised, though she supposed they were apt for the times. There was a thin book called ‘Fashion of the 1930s’ right beside a thicker tome called ‘Household Spells For Women’. That one made Ginny’s eyebrow twitch. Underneath that, she noted another thick book called ‘Garamosa Vi’, which after examining Ginny learned was a dirty novel. She quickly put that back before Tom saw her with it.

After Tom had explored the entire bookstore, Ginny decided on the sweets shop to visit next. It was practically identical to the one in her time, with only minute differences. She inhaled the wonderful smells and weaved her way through the crowd gathering at the register to examine all of the goodies.

“Mmm, chocolate,” Ginny breathed out, eyeing the different types. Ron had always thought she was mad for it, but Ginny rather liked the spicy chocolates. She stepped closer to examine the selection, wondering how different her old favorites might taste in 1944.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you to eat that kind of chocolate,” Tom remarked as Ginny clutched a bar of cayenne chocolate in her mits. “Isn’t that quite spicy?”

“It’s a good kind of spicy. If you behave, I’ll let you try a piece,” Ginny winked at him and moved to the front to pay for it. She forked over a few knuts, surprised by the price difference, and stowed the bar into the pocket of her cloak. She smiled at her boyfriend, “My b-er, sisters used to say I was crazy for eating that sort of chocolate. It’s good though, I swear it. It’s sort of exciting to have a bit of a surprise with your sweets.”

“I’ll take your word for it, my dear. Do you mind if we walk up the hill? I hear the view is nice,” Riddle proposed, motioning to the winding path that led up from the village.

“Sure, sounds wonderful,” Ginny took hold of his arm. In her time, this was where students would go to check out the Shrieking Shack. At this time, it was likely just an empty lot with a view of the village. The changes from her Hogsmeade and this one were subtle, but enough that Ginny found it refreshing. 

The biggest change was the behavior of the students, Ginny noted. Cringing, she watched as Cyrano Alessi, a Gryffindor boy in her year, professed his affection to a frightened looking Ming Ze Hong, another Gryffindor. Ming Ze was covering her face in shame as Cyrano belted out her praises from his knees. To her left, a portly Hufflepuff boy was bringing over a small bouquet of peonies to a pretty Ravenclaw girl with auburn ringlets. 

It seemed like most everyone they passed by were completely enthralled by the romance of Valentine’s Day. Ginny had to bite her tongue as she saw Ernestine Flint bumbling her way through a heartfelt confession to an older Slytherin boy. This was nothing like the Valentine’s Days Ginny was used to. 

“Good grief,” Ginny muttered as they reached the outskirts of the village and began to climb the hill. “It’s like everyone’s had a love potion overdose for breakfast.”

“It’s always like this around Valentine’s Day,” Riddle supplied, sounding uncomfortable. “We shall have many more love confessions between now and Tuesday. It’s my least favourite time of the year, if I’m to be honest.”

Ginny grimaced, “I’m not sure I can fault you for that. Thanks for coming out with me, despite the love-filled atmosphere. I’m having a great time exploring Hogsmeade with you.”

“Had it not been for you, I might have put off my first trip to Hogsmeade,” Tom admitted, glancing down at her. “I do not think I could have tolerated any of this without you here with me.”

She laughed, “Likewise, Riddle.”

When they reached the top of the hill, Ginny found the area painfully familiar. There was a small, circular clearing surrounded by shoddy, metal fencing. There were a couple of dark wooden benches filled with carvings of initials, just like her in time. The only difference was that instead of the Shrieking Shack, Ginny could see nothing but fir trees and little houses on the backside of the village. It was quite a nicer sight than a dilapidated shack, Ginny had to admit. She peered over a railing and smiled, breathing in the cool, fresh air.

Tom rested his hands on the railing, peering out into the distance with an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes slowly combed over everything, taking in the scene. Ginny found herself admiring him, committing yet another memory of this day to the recesses of her mind. He seemed relaxed, if not a little uneasy. There was nothing sinister about him at the moment and Ginny couldn’t help but inwardly remark on how  _ normal _ he appeared. 

He seemed startled to find her watching him, rather than enjoying the view below them. A flash of discomfort crossed his features briefly, before going blank. Riddle licked his lips and motioned to the forests, “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Ginny nodded and fiddled with the end of her braid, “Yeah, way better than watching the imbeciles in the village, that’s for certain.” She snickered.

Riddle gave her a crooked smile, “I concur.”

Silence fell over them once more. Ginny found herself relaxing as she stared down at the homes and the trees, watching as birds flitted around, bouncing from tree to tree, and the occasional person came out of their house. Ever so often, she would catch Riddle’s eye on her and smile at him. After a bit, Tom placed his hand on her lower back. 

“Ginevra,” Riddle spoke quietly, turning his head toward her slightly.

“Hmm?” Ginny asked, glancing over at him. He was unreadable, still. Dark eyes were scanning her face as if he were trying to memorize every inch of it. She shifted uncomfortably and turned to face him, her hands taking his. “Tom?”

He said nothing, but swallowed. His gaze flicked from hers to the railing, to the ground. There was something he wanted to say, but couldn’t seem to get out.

“You know,” Ginny said teasingly, a coy smile on her lips. “I could probably throw you over this railing if you are considering any songs or poetry.”

Tom laughed lightly, “I was not considering either. It’s nothing really. I-- I enjoy spending time with you, Ginevra. That’s all.”

A warmth spread down her chest and her heart skipped a beat. Ginny couldn’t stop herself from grinning up at him, “I enjoy spending time with you too, Tom.”

They remained on the hill for some time, not really talking to one another, but just simply being in one another’s presence. Ginny couldn’t help but let the hopeful feeling take hold of her.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Ornella’s birthday was the first of March, just like Ron’s. 

Ginny’s stomach twisted as various students wished Nella a happy birthday and showered the girl with affection. She missed Ron, even if he was the world’s biggest prat. She would have done just about anything to see his stupid, smarmy face again. The desire to rib him about Hermione and bug him until he exploded filled her with dread. It was easy to picture the crimson that would spread across Ron’s freckled features. He would clench his jaw and scrunch his shoulders before bellowing at Ginny to bugger off. Perhaps, even add in a few other expletives that would make their mum shout. Ginny was torn between wanting to laugh or cry. Instead, she did neither.

Only Tom seemed to pick up on the fact that something was off with Ginny.

Of course, it was Tom. He was constantly noticing things about Ginny; picking up on the slightest change of mood or irritation. It was almost annoying how perceptive he was. 

“What is it?” he asked her after lunch and held out his hand for Ginny to take.

She obliged, but scowled at him, “It’s nothing Tom. Just a bad day.”

“What about the day is bad? It is your friend’s birthday, is it not? I hear there will be yet another asinine birthday party held in the Haunt tonight on Ornella’s behalf. Will you be in attendance?” Tom asked her, squeezing her hand. The two were headed to the library to start on homework before their afternoon classes.

Ginny sighed and used her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, “Yes I’m going. If you must know, it was one of my sibling’s birthdays today too.”

“Ah,” Tom remarked quietly. “And you are feeling sad?”

“A bit,” Ginny admitted. “Mostly reminiscent. I wish I could see my family. I miss them, you know. We were really close. Sometimes, it's easy to push it all aside and not think about it. But days like today? It bubbles to the surface and, well, it hurts.”

Tom held the door to the library open for her, allowing her to enter first. He took her hand again once they were both inside. The two sat down at their favourite table in the far reaches of the library, away from prying eyes. Though, the librarian seemed to make frequent trips to check on them anytime she knew they were present. 

Riddle pulled out ink, quill, and parchment from his worn bag and set it out carefully before him. He paused as he reached for his Charms book, “I wish you were not hurting, dear. Would you like to talk about your sister? What was she like?” 

It was not often that Tom asked about Ginny’s family in detail. Usually, nothing more than ancestry or the like. Just the idea of mothers, fathers, and siblings often made Tom recoil and shut down. Needless to say, Ginny was a bit surprised to find him asking about Ron. Not that Tom knew it was Ron, of course.

“Diantha,” Ginny muttered, picturing the family tree in her mind. “She was closest in age to me. We bickered loads. One time, she actually threw a punch at me. Mum caught her and she was in quite a lot of trouble. Double-duty chores. And, sometimes Diantha could be dense. And lazy. But, she was a good sister and quite funny. Protective of me, too. When I was eleven, Diantha told me I wasn’t allowed to date until I was forty. I suppose I’m breaking the rules now, aren’t I?” It was harder than Ginny expected to talk about Ron. There were incidents and memories that wouldn’t make sense given the history she was using. Ginny couldn’t relive memories of Hogwarts with Tom, or talk about how Ron would tease her about Harry. The word  _ sister _ sounded so foreign to her. Ginny only ever had brothers. The closest thing she’d had to a sister was Hermione, which had been a blessing at times during those summers to have another girl around. 

“How were your relationships with the others? You had five sisters, correct?”

Ginny nodded slowly, racking her brain for tidbits she could share. The best thing to do was to be truthful, as best as she could without giving away her secrets. Ginny licked her lips, “Yeah. We got on alright. Ups and downs, as expected with siblings I suppose. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Tom said softly as he began to turn the pages of his book.

“I know, I’m sorry Tom,” Ginny replied with sympathy. She started retrieving her own homework supplies. “Was there anyone at the orphanage close to you?” She didn’t expect him to reply, he never did.

Tom remained silent, which was what Ginny had expected. Instead of remarking on it, she began to read through the theory of non-verbal Charms. This was something she was actually quite excited to begin learning. This time at Hogwarts in her old life had been a jumble of educational material that had been piecemealed together by herself and Neville Longbottom. The Carrows had been more keen on teaching Unforgivable Curses and the history of why Mudbloods were evil. There hadn’t been much instruction on anything else, which had left Ginny to plan lessons with Neville. They’d tried to round up any remnants of Dumbledore’s Army, but instead of teaching it became a fight for their lives. 

“There were two children that I occasionally socialized with, but I mostly kept to myself. The other children thought I was strange. I despised them, so I drove them away,” Tom startled her by speaking up. He was staring at his book, looking as if he were reading. “When I first learned that I could do magic, it was an accident, but a few saw and were afraid of me. I used it to scare them further; to make them obey me.”

Ginny blanched. While she had not been expecting him to say anything, what he had said disturbed her. She could read between the lines. He bent the children to his will, just as he did here at school. She didn’t want to press too hard, afraid he would retreat under his shell again. He was still avoiding her gaze, pretending to be reading his book. Ginny cleared her throat, “Do you still mingle with them when you return?”

Tom shook his head, “I spend as much time as possible away from the orphanage, only returning for supper and a place to sleep. I do not speak to the other orphans anymore than I have to. Besides, they take care to avoid me.”

“Their loss then,” she supplied lightheartedly. The last thing Ginny wanted to do was to push Tom back into his shell. She needed to tread cautiously through this if she were to gain anything. Pausing a moment, she twisted the white-feathed quill with two fingers, “Tom, have you ever wondered if your father is still alive?”

For a moment, she thought the question had been a terrible mistake. Several things flashed across his handsome face before Tom could compose himself; rage, pain, and disgust. His features were carefully guarded, posture rigid. His Adam's apple bobbed as he pointedly looked away from Ginny. Her nerves steeled themselves and she held her breath, fumbling for an exit strategy. He had just started to open up to her! She couldn’t bugger it up now.

To her surprise, Tom began to speak in a slow, hard tone of voice, “He passed away last summer.”

“Oh, I--”

“I met him once,” Tom cut her off. His palms were flat on the table, fingers spread out. He looked as if he wanted to push off and run. “I met my grandparents as well. They were wretched. My father did not care that I existed, though he had known my mother was expecting. Neither she nor I ever crossed his mind again. It is no loss to me that he is dead.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. What was the right thing to say in this situation? What was the right thing to say to _ Voldemort _ ? Ginny set down her quill and reached across the table, prying his hands off of the wood. She rubbed his hands in hers, trying to provide support. He still wouldn’t look at her. Ginny took a deep breath, “I’m really sorry Tom. That’s awful. All of these people are missing out on knowing you. I will say it again,  _ it’s their loss. _ ”

“It’s quite alright,” Tom removed his hands from Ginny’s grasp. He remained blank-faced and cold as he began to flip through his book once more. “They were nothing but filthy Muggles, all of them.”

“Not all Muggles are like that,” Ginny blurted out before she could stop herself. “You’ve just had the misfortune of being surrounded by so many bad ones. It’s wrong, Tom. Everyone deserves love, you know. That includes you.”

“I don’t believe in love,” he spat. “This conversation is over. We have homework to get done.”

While she was tempted to push and prod for some more information, Ginny did not want to rouse the beast. He divulged more than she had expected. Instead of speaking about it any further, Ginny ducked her head and tried to focus on her assignments, while she dwelled on the new things she had learned.

  
  


The last thing Ginny wanted to do was attend Ornella’s birthday party. It had been Lucretia’s idea, which Nella thought to be a big deal. Not everyone’s birthday was celebrated among the Slytherins. Only a few parties had been held in the Haunt for people. Nella was over the moon in excitement over the sentiment. The only thing that would make the girl happier would have been if Rathmore were invited as well. But, as he wasn’t a Slytherin, he wasn’t allowed in the Haunt. No exceptions could be made for him.

Tom had barely spoken to Ginny since the library conversation. At supper, he requested she go sit with Nella and Ros and turned his back on her before Ginny could even begin to formulate a reply. Startled by the sudden chilliness toward her, Ginny fell rather sullen during supper. Of course, Ros and Nella both noticed and proceeded to question her, to which Ginny was quick to say that Riddle was in a bit of a mood that day. Nella wanted to question Ginny in detail, but Ros sensed the subject was not one Ginny wanted to discuss and changed the subject.

As it was her friend’s birthday, Ginny was subject to dress up with the girls prior to the party. It was difficult for Ginny to find any thrill in the task, but tried her hardest for Nella’s sake, even pitching in to assist with hair and makeup charms. 

In the end, the trio struck an impressive image. Ornella wore a scoop-neck white blouse with trumpet sleeves and a high-waisted black skirt, along with a pair of black, pointy-toed boots. Roslyn curled Nella’s blonde locks into ringlets and Ginny had chosen the hair comb for the birthday girl to use; an emerald encrusted, moon-shaped comb. Ros had chosen a more casual look and wore a mustard yellow shift dress with tan flats. The dark-skinned girl had let her unruly curls free, which Ginny adored. 

Due to Nella’s persuasion, Ginny was wearing yet another one of her friend’s dresses. It was a deep emerald and black a-line dress. The top half was black, while the skirt was emerald. She wore black flats and left her hair down, but had allowed Nella to paint her lips a dark red. While Ginny wasn’t one to dwell too hard on her appearance, she knew her looks were decent. The simplicity of her attire today looked stellar on her. 

It was hard for her to get excited about the night. Tom was still avoiding her, though he had been invited to attend Nella’s birthday party. Ginny hoped he wouldn’t leave her high and dry at the party tonight. She found it frustrating that Tom’s reaction to confiding in her was to run away, leaving her shunned and confused. The notion of sharing about himself was new and it was clear Tom found it difficult and shameful. Ginny hoped to reassure him that it was okay to reveal his true self to her. If he would listen. 

The Haunt was packed with the same, Pureblood crowd that hung around most Saturday nights. In fact, everything about it was the exact same, it was just an excuse to hold another exclusive pow-wow. Ginny was becoming less impressed with the Pureblood-centric club every week, but found herself being pressured into attending. Sighing, she filled her glass and stood with Ornella as students gave her their well-wishes and compliments. 

Conversation went on around her, but Ginny paid little attention. She was thinking about Tom again. Despite the conflict Tom was feeling over discussing the orphanage and his father with her, Ginny knew she had a victory under her belt. Tom never wanted to let down his walls, but she had been able to find a crack and crawl in. It was a bit exciting, leaving a hopeful flutter in her chest. Tom trusted her enough to reveal something. Progress had been made that day, Ginny was sure of it. One step closer to busting down the thick walls that barricaded his heart from the world.

After some time, Ginny decided to excuse herself from the crowd around Ornella. She was no longer sure what the topic was anymore. She had not partook in any of it; just stood quietly drinking wine. It was starting to become a routine thing for Ginny to have several glasses early on. 

She sought out the entrance once more, but Tom did not appear. Disappointed, Ginny shuffled over to another table where Abraxas Malfoy, John Mulciber, and Lycurgus Yaxley were sitting. Ginny sunk down into the open seat beside Abraxas, resting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. 

“Cheers Ginny,” Lycurgus greeted her fondly. “We just finished taking bets on the next Hippogriff race. Did you want in? You follow it, don’t you?”

“Know nothing about it, thanks though,” she replied morosely. Abraxas caught her eye and she made a face. 

Mulciber appeared thrilled by Ginny’s presence sans Tom. He leaned forward in his chair, big eyes staring at her, “You alright? If Abraxas gets that radio working again, we could dance, if you wanted.” His hopeful gaze bore down on her.

“That sounds lovely, John, since my date has gone missing,” Ginny sighed. Noting her glass was empty, she frowned into it, wishing she had refilled before coming over here.

The three boys shared a look that did not escape Ginny’s notice. Abraxas recovered first, switching to a grin far too sunny for Ginny’s liking, “Oi, did you hear what happened in the Hufflepuff Quidditch practice today? Their Seeker, Qureshi, got his nose broken. There was blood everywhere.”

“Bloody hell, that team cannot go a month without some sort of disaster,” Lycurgus replied, laughing. “Qureshi is the only decent part of their team, without him they’re hopeless.”

“Aren’t they?” Abraxas agreed. “Slytherin has the win for sure this year. Our play has been stellar this year, despite that loss against Ravenclaw. I think we can pull it back.”

Ginny shook her head, “Not if you can’t convince Parkinson to share the Quaffle. He’s such a ball hog. It hinders your score and leaves the other Chasers with low morale.”

“She’s got a point, Brax, but good luck convincing Lestrange. He and Parkinson are cousins,” Lycurgus shook his head ruefully. “I hope you get Captain next year mate.”

Abraxas smiled, eyes alight, “I’m hoping for it.”

“I’m going to try out for Chaser next year,” Ginny announced to the three boys. “I ought to have this year, but... Well, I just didn’t.”

“You play?” John asked, leaning toward her again. 

Ginny nodded, “I’m a fair flyer, used to steal brooms from my sisters and practice. I promise, I’d be a solid choice.” She batted her eyes at Malfoy before laughing. “I expect a fair tryout, but I think you’ll want me on your team.”

“I think I will too,” Malfoy said politely. He was staring at her intently.

“Golly, it would be great if you got on the team, Ginny. Hasn’t been a lady on Slytherin for nearly thirty years,” Lycurgus informed her. “And she was  _ good. _ Went professional right after finishing school.”

“I used to dream about going professional,” Ginny reminisced, recalling her childhood fantasies of being on the Harpies. “Now, I’m really not sure.” If she were stuck in the time for the rest of her life, living as Ginevra Pyrites, she didn’t know what sort of future would be in store for her. Women were working, but many Pureblood families expected their wives to remain at home. Though, Ginny didn’t know if she would have that sort of future. She used to want kids, a wedding, and a career, but now? It was painful to even consider any of that without her family or friends around. 

“Riddle would probably prefer you at home with the children,” Mulciber spoke harshly. Jealousy radiated from the boy. “He’s very insistent on some things. Besides, he’s so protective of you.”

Ginny’s blood frosted over, “Tom has no say in what I choose to do with my career. He has no right. He doesn’t own me. I’m perfectly capable of caring for myself.”

There was an uncomfortable silence across the table. John looked embarrassed, unsure of what to say. He gaped like a fish at Ginny. Abraxas glanced at the two boys, then Ginny, “Hey, could we speak? Privately?” He rose and held out his hand to her.

She took it warily, letting him lead her from the party. He ushered her down the hall, stopping before the supply room Ginny had previously propositioned Tom in. Thankfully, Abraxas paused before entering. Malfoy looked around cautiously before speaking in a low voice, “Is there something going on with you and Riddle? It didn’t escape my notice that you two haven’t been talking much this evening. Normally, you’re inseparable. He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

“He’s just an idiot,” Ginny snapped, crossing her arms beneath her chest. “I can never figure out what he wants from our relationship. He runs away from me and avoids me like a coward all because he opened up. The boy drives me nutters, Abraxas. I keep asking myself, is it worth it? But I also can’t stop because... because...” Ginny trailed off, unsure of how to finish explaining. She couldn’t tell Malfoy that she needed Tom-fucking-Riddle to fall in love with her so he didn’t become an evil, soulless, arse who ended up killing people she cared for.

“Because you’re in love with him?” Abraxas asked quietly, his blue eyes trying to find answers in her brown ones. 

Ginny opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She put her hands on her hips, “I am not in love with him. Come off it, Abraxas.”

He put his hands up in defeat, but didn’t look convinced, “If you say so. We all know he’s mad about you. But, seriously, Ginny, if he’s done something to upset you, I want you to talk to me. I care about you, I know Maria relayed my message. I meant it, you know. You’re special, Ginny. So different from every other girl here. I can’t stand to watch him manipulate you. He’s good at it, really good. He does it to everyone, sometimes I feel it’s just me who notices it. Everyone adores him; they think he’s perfect, but I just don’t completely buy the act. He’s cruel; heartless... and, I don’t want him to destroy you.”

“I’d never allow him to destroy me,” Ginny retorted, his skin prickling as Abraxas’s words sunk in. “Sometimes, I wish it was you instead that I wanted to be with. Merlin only knows how much less of a headache it would be.”

Abraxas took one of her hands and kissed it softly, “If only things were that simple. You love him, whether you are willing to admit it or not. And, that’s okay. I’m not angry. You said it before and it’s true - you’re no one’s property.”

She closed her eyes a moment before taking her hand away from Abraxas. She turned her back on him, desperately wishing things could be simple, “I don’t know what I am doing, Abraxas.”

“What do you mean?”

Ginny swallowed, trying to figure out what to say without giving away her true story, “With Tom. I’m tired of being held at arm's length. Every time I feel like I have made progress, something happens and I end up back at the beginning. I want him to trust me. I want him to loosen up with me. I want him to-to  _ love me.” _ She choked out the last bit. Love was the only way to win against Voldemort, Harry had always said so. Ginny doubted this was what Harry meant though.

“Ginny,” Abraxas spoke softly, putting a delicate hand on her shoulder. He gently spun her around and pulled her tight to his chest. “Have you told him how you feel?”

“I—“ She frowned into Abraxas’s chest. “No. Not explicitly, anyway.”

“Well, I recommend communicating with him.”

“He’s a bit difficult to do so with. I tried to tell him— er, you likely don’t want to know, but he shut me down.”

Abraxas sighed, patting her hair kindly, “Any man who turns down an offer from you is out of their mind.”

Ginny laughed, burrowing her head into him. He smelled nice. She breathed him in once more before pulling away, “Why are you so bloody kind?”

“My mum,” Abraxas replied quietly. “My dad... is not kind, to put it simply. He hurts my mother. Watching her suffer, watching her attempts to communicate shut down has made me want to be a better man. I’ll never hurt a woman; physically or otherwise. That’s why I cannot be angry with you for not choosing me over Riddle. You’re not my plaything. You’re a real person, with thoughts and feelings. Just like my mum. My father thinks he owns her.”

“Oh Abraxas, that’s terrible. Can someone help your mother? The Ministry?” Ginny brought a hand to her chest, feeling dreadful for Mrs. Malfoy.

Abraxas shook his head, “My mum doesn’t want anyone involved. Besides, our laws are so archaic. Women are generally still second rate in situations like this. With arranged marriages, there are absurd clauses in contracts about following the man’s rules. If I’m betrothed, those will be excluded from my contract no matter what my father says.”

“Is he why your sister is so...”

“Quiet? Afraid? Yeah, he abhors her for being his firstborn. He was supposed to have a son first. He is still angry with my mother for doing that to him, as if it was her choice to bore a daughter first. Even her name, Maria, is supposed to be an insult. It was the most Muggle-sounding name he could think of. He thought it would alienate her. Jokes on him though, Maria is much nicer of a name than Abraxas,” the blond gave her a sad smile and shook his head. “I despise my father. I’ll never be like him.”

“I hate him too,” Ginny announced. “Your mother deserves better, so do you and your sister. You’re a great man, Abraxas. Try to impart that onto your children and children’s children.” Ginny hadn’t the slightest idea how his future family ended up so awful with someone like Abraxas in their life. Unless, of course, he wasn’t a part of their lives. Ginny hoped the boy wasn’t in line for an early death. 

“I aim to,” Abraxas agreed. He paused and slipped his hands into the pocket of his robes, “You should go find Riddle.”

“Probably hiding from me,” Ginny grumbled, kicking start the ground.

Abraxas sighed, “He’s likely in bed, as it’s late. The rest of our dormitory mates are here at the party. You could slip up there and have a bit of privacy. I can’t guarantee for how long. Don’t sully my bed, alright?”

“Oh, please,” Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes, “He refuses to sacrifice my virtue or whatever, your bed is safe.” She stepped forward and hugged Abraxas tightly, “Thank you. You’re a wonderful friend. I’m happy to have met you, Abraxas.”

“Go on,” Malfoy smiled and motioned toward the Common Room. “Before the party starts dwindling down. I’m going to get the music playing. That will keep everyone busy for a while.”

Ginny nodded, starting to take a step toward the common room, “Tell Nella where I’ve gone. And tell John that I’m sorry to have missed our dance.” She sprinted down the corridor, sliding to a stop in front of the entrance to Slytherin.

  
  


The Common Room was essentially empty, only a couple of fifth years studying. Ginny took care to slip up to the boys' dormitories carefully, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. She tiptoed past the other doors until she reached sixth year. Without knocking, she opened the door. 

It was identical to the girls dormitories, but a tad messier. Clothes were strewn on the floor and books haphazardly tossed onto beds. Ginny took a few tentative steps in, wondering which bed was Tom’s. It turned out to be an easy assessment, as the other curtains were open, with beds empty. Feeling bold, she marched over to the lone, curtained bed and slipped through.

Tom was startled, jumping up and knocking his books aside. His wand was in his hand before he even realized who was there. He didn’t lower it upon seeing her, “What are you doing in here?! This is—“

“I’m tired of you shutting me out!” Ginny bellowed, feet apart and hands on her hips. “I’m  _ sick _ of you hiding from me. You have too many secrets and too many silly, stupid rules for your life. It’s aggravating how hard I have to try to make you see that you don’t need walls up around me all the time. You start to give in, then put your shell up again! It’s frustrating. You don’t have to be the perfect Tom Riddle every minute of every day! I want you to tell me how you feel, to trust me, to  _ touch _ me. I’m in love with you, Tom. We don’t have to plan our future, we can just  _ be _ as we are right now and play it by ear. I was so happy when you told me about your life today, but then you shut me out again. You sent me away, you avoided me, you no-showed to Nella’s party. Please stop, it hurts me when you do this.”

She took a deep breath, but didn’t stop staring. Tom’s wand was still aimed at her face, but Ginny did not back down. Her brown eyes remained trained on him, daring him to send her away. As usual, his expression was carefully guarded. There was no way to read him. 

“Please talk to me,” Ginny whispered. “Please talk to me, Tom.”

“I have to keep you at bay,” he said quietly, still not lowering his wand. “You will ruin it all if I let you in any deeper. I cannot let you destroy everything I have worked for. I cannot trust you and you do not truly care about me. No one does. I don’t believe in love.” Tom finally lowered his wand and sat back down on his bed. He was wearing his pajamas; a worn looking gray plaid set. 

“What must I do to prove it to you?” Ginny asked him, taking a step toward him.

Tom blinked at her, though remained unreadable. His jaw set as he tore his eyes from her, “Let me see, then.”

“See what?” Ginny wrinkled her nose, feeling confused. 

Tom motioned to her and spoke quietly, “Let me see inside your head.”

Ginny froze. Legilimency. She should have figured it was coming, but thankfully Ginny had trained in Occlumency since her fourth year. Hermione had asked her to learn; told her how dangerous it would be if anyone knew how much Ginny fancied Harry or knew how much Hermione let slip to her. She could handle this. All she had to do was focus her thoughts. Her and Neville had practiced so much together during that last, awful year at Hogwarts. She steeled herself and lied, “I have nothing to hide. Go ahead.

Tom picked up his wand again and pointed it directly at her forehead, “ _ Legilimens _ !”

Ginny was nearly knocked off of her feet as the spell hit her. She pushed thoughts of Tom to the forefront as he probed her memories. She thought of their first kiss at the behest of the Black girls; recalling how Nella announced her crush on Tom to the group. She recalled their trip to Hogsmeade; how Ginny had been so pleased to see him appear so ordinary with her. The next memory she brought forth was of herself and Nella talking about him fondly, followed by her talk with Abraxas that night and how she’d admitted to wanting Tom to love her. 

His probing pressed harder, catching Ginny off guard a moment, but a random memory saved her— herself as a young girl, sneaking into the broomshed to fly around on a broom that wasn’t hers. The stars and moon hung overhead as the small girl flew above the yard, beaming at her own courage.

Tom let go, relinquishing his delving into the recesses of her mind. Ginny swayed from the sudden release of pressure, but Tom grabbed her waist and pulled her down beside him. He didn’t speak, just simply stared at the deep green curtains that surrounded them.

“Tom?” Ginny pried, nudging him slightly with her elbow. “Do you have any doubts left? Is there another way I can prove myself?”

The boy shook his head, “No. What you’ve done has been sufficient.”

She bit her lip, shifting on the bed uncomfortably, “What’s on your mind? Please tell me.”

“I don’t love you,” he spat vehemently, fists clenching the sheets. “I may never love you. I’m not certain I’m capable of doing so. But, I... I feel something for you. I do not want to let you go, despite knowing I should if I am to accomplish what I must. The mere idea of seeing you on the arm of someone like  _ Malfoy _ makes me want to hurt him. I would obliterate him.” Tom turned his head slightly toward her, “I do not love you, Ginevra, but I want you. I have never cared for another human being as I do you. I must impress on you the sincerity of that statement, for I typically see other people as tools or a means to an end. Sharing things about myself with you has caught me off guard, it’s so easy to feel at ease with you. You never judge me for what I am or the life I have outside of Hogwarts. It is difficult to let you in. It’s easier to shut you out. I find myself thinking that one day, you will come to your senses and move on. But, I do not know if I could let you move on. I cannot stand the idea of you with anyone else and I cannot stop myself.”

Ginny took it all in, doing her best to make sense of everything he said. She scooted closer, “It’s okay, Tom. You don’t have to be in love with me right now. Knowing you want me is more than enough. I don’t want anyone else either. But, please, please stop, pushing me away.”

“I will try.”

“That’s a start,” Ginny agreed reluctantly. “What were you reading about?”

“Legilimency, actually. This was the first time I attempted to use it,” Tom told her, wringing his hands in his lap. “Why did you leave your friend’s party?”

Ginny poked him in the shoulder, “To see you.”

Tom frowned at his lap, “That was unnecessary.”

“How else was I to corner you to speak to me?” Ginny asked with a wry smile. 

“Shouldn’t you get some sleep or return to the party?”

“I would rather be with you right now,” Ginny told him and leaned her head into his shoulder. “We are alone up here. It’s nice.” She let herself flop back into his bed, smiling as he turned to stare at her. Ginny stretched out, feeling her dress ride up slightly, “It’s comfortable too. Oh, the view isn’t too shabby either.” Ginny winked at him.

“Slughorn will pitch a fit if he finds you up here,” Riddle warned, still eyeing her cautiously.

Ginny rolled her eyes, “He will never know. Lay with me.”

“Hm. Fine. At least come lie on a pillow like a civilized witch,” Tom began moving his books onto his nightstand to make room for Ginny. 

Kicking off her flats, Ginny crawled to the pillows and nestled into them. The green and silver comforter found its way up to her chin as she got comfortable. Tom watched her with hesitation. Ginny sighed and patted the space beside her, “I won’t bite.” 

Slowly, he lifted the blanket and got in with her. He sat up, stiff and rigid, completely unsure what to do. 

“You could keep reading if you wanted,” Ginny told him, scooting closer so that she was nestled into his side. “I’d like to just be in your company.”

“That would be rude, wouldn’t it?”

A smirk crossed her face as she tugged on his arm, “A little. Why don’t you come down here and kiss me instead?”

Tom blanched, “We are alone... in my bed. Highly inappropriate—“

“But, do you want to?” Ginny whispered huskily. “Bugger the rules. What do  _ you _ want, Tom?”

He slid down until he was lying beside her at eye level. There was an uncertainty in his gaze. After a moment, Tom placed a hand on her waist, pulling her close to him, and kissed her.

Ginny brought a hand to his face, caressing the skin of his cheek. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, meeting his. Tom nibbled on her lower lip, making her moan quietly into his mouth. Slowly, his hand wandered down her hip, finding the soft flesh of her exposed thigh. The long fingers trailed up her dress, grazing across her arse a moment. Ginny leaned into him, bucking her hips. This time, he didn’t stop her. He cupped her backside with one hand, kissing her hard and rough. She returned his kisses with just as much force. 

Ginny was startled when he pushed her onto her back and crawled atop. Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his lips back to hers. Tom grunted as Ginny bucked once more, grinding against him. His body responded; pelvis pushing against hers. 

Her eyes fluttered open and closed as she enjoyed the feeling of him pressed between her legs. She wanted more. Ginny wound her hands into his hair, scratching and pulling while he thrust against her. It was both heavenly and torturous simultaneously. She wanted to rip both of their clothes off and fuck the stresses and tension away.

Tom seemed to sense her want and pulled away, making her whimper at the loss of pressure between her legs.

“Tom,” she breathed. “Come back. I want you. Please.”

He shook his head, “I... cannot. I won’t. I know you say you mind not, nor do you desire anyone else, but I will not take that from you.” 

“Ugh,” Ginny groaned. She was frustrated with need. “But, Tom—“

“I’ll touch you, but I will not defile you,” he replied quietly, letting a hand drift between her warm legs.

Her back arched as she felt fingers caress the outside of her knickers. She sat up and pulled her dress off, throwing it unceremoniously onto the floor. Settling back among the pillows, she watched Tom’s eyes widen as they took in her state of undress. Ginny smiled and bit her lip, staring straight into his startled eyes.

“I want you to watch me when I get off,” she whispered to him. “So you can see that I’m yours.”   
  


Her words lit a blazing fire in Tom's eyes. He set his jaw and immediately slid his fingers beneath the waistband of her white knickers. Clumsy fingers explored her, raking over her clitoris and finding her entrance. Ginny stifled a moan of longing, continuing to stare into Tom's hazel orbs. She said nothing, but simply nodded her head once. 

A single finger slowly burrowed inside. Ginny could feel him probing around, trying to figure it out. It was a tease, but she said nothing. She didn't want to tell him what to do. Tom would decipher the puzzle on his own.

Slower than a snail, Tom moved his finger around before sliding it out and back in again. He did that a few more times before adding another digit to the mix. The thrust of his fingers made her gasp and clutch the bed sheets, legs spreading further.

A hungry gaze clouded his features as he worked his hand, pumping the fingers into her with a fury. Ginny could barely contain herself, but tried to keep quiet in the case one of his dorm mates returned. She arched her back into each thrust of his fingers, crying out as he hit the spots that made her feel the familiar twist in her abdomen, the intense need made her legs shake. Ginny let her own fingers rub at her clit, while Tom fingered her hard and fast. The high filled her, skittering up her spine like a rat on the hunt. She let it fill her, eyes drinking him in, and body responding to his every move.

She cried out his name, reaching up to touch his face. Panting, Ginny rode out the waves of delight until she relaxed and Tom removed his hand from between her legs. Smiling, she tugged him down to lie beside her and allowed her hand to wander. She touched his chest, hovering to feel the erratic flutter of his heartbeat. Her fingers caressed the skin of his stomach, nearly giggling as he flinched beneath her touch.

Once her exploration found its mark, it didn't take long for Tom to find his own release. He was already wound up, and easily and silently came into her hands. 

After cleaning away the evidence, the couple lay on their sides, staring at one another. Ginny smiled as she touched his cheek.

"You ought to go back to your room," Tom whispered, but his grip on her waist tightened. "It's late and the others will be back soon."

"I know, I will leave in a minute," she lied again, snuggling closer to Tom.

They fell asleep together, his arm protectively around her waist with Ginny's head tucked into the crook of his neck. It was lucky for the both of them that Tom had a tendency to wake up bright and early. The other sixth year Slytherins were none the wiser of their female addition to the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments, kudos, and for reading this story =)


	16. Chapter Fifteen

After breakfast, Ornella Greengrass cornered Ginny with a murderous look upon her face. Tom excused himself in a hurry, not wanting to be a part of whatever Nella wanted to discuss. Ginny glowered at his retreating back as she matched Nella's pace. The two walked slowly to the Common Room to gather their things for Transfiguration.

"Did you sleep with Tom Riddle?!" Nella hissed when they were free from eavesdroppers. Her blue eyes were wide and curious, as well as a little horrified.

"Yes--I mean no. Ah, well, er," Ginny floundered a moment as she tried to answer her friend’s question. "I slept with him, but we didn't shag. I am sorry I left your party so early Nella. Are you angry with me?"

Nella let out a shrill shriek of surprise before piping down to whisper frantically, "I was mad at first, but he hadn't shown up to the party so I thought you might have gone to fetch him. When you didn't come back at all, I started wondering. Abraxas confirmed where you’d gone and your bed was empty when I returned so I began to put two and two together. I spared you, by the way, I closed your curtains before I went to bed so the others might have thought you just snuck in late. You're welcome. But, Merlin, Ginny! What were you thinking? If Slughorn caught you two, I think you both would be expelled."

"It wasn't my brightest idea," the redhead admitted sheepishly, a slight flush creeping up her neck. "I wanted to have a little chat with him and we ended up falling asleep. It was nice though. Very cozy."

Nella looked scandalized as they waited for the stairs to rotate their direction, "How racy! I cannot fathom falling asleep in Rathmore's bed. Goodness, you're so brave. Are you certain you shouldn't be a Gryffindor?"

A knowing smile curled Ginny's lips. She absolutely should have been a Gryffindor, "The hat did suggest it, but said I'd do better in Slytherin."

Nella began to descend the stairs when they stopped in front of the two, laughing at her friend, "You  _ would _ be a split for both houses. You are just  _ different _ , Ginny. I mean it in the best way possible."

  
  


It wasn't until later in the day that Ginny was able to corner Abraxas alone. She caught him after History of Magic, while Tom stayed behind to ask some additional questions about the history of Thamalas the Most Evile. She was less than impressed with Tom's interest in the story, sensing how perilously close Thamalas had come to finding immortality. It unnerved her. Binns hadn’t outright said the H-word, but the ambiguity of the evil man’s attempt at finding immortality, and the downfall of his village had hit far too close to home. It didn’t help that Thamalas’s name even reminded her of Tom. Professor Binns wouldn’t have any idea what he had done by teaching them about the horrid man. The lesson left her with tension pooling in her chest.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Ginny ran to catch up to the tall blonde boy, her bag swinging wildly at her side. 

Abraxas waved off his friends to head on ahead without him, "You alright?" He glanced behind her, looking for Tom.

"He stayed behind to speak with Professor Binns. I wanted to talk to you anyway," Ginny adjusted the strap of her bag. "Thank you for talking some sense into me last night."

"Ah, did everything turn out alright then?" Malfoy scratched his cheek. He looked a bit uncomfortable asking her, as if he worried Ginny might tell him something improper. "All done squabbling?"

"There's been some discussion, so hopefully," Ginny told him, opting to keep her sleeping arrangements a secret from him. She didn't need to push her luck with Abraxas, the last thing Ginny wanted to do was hurt his feelings further or make the bloke uncomfortable. "You're truly a wonderful friend. I wanted you to know that I appreciate how kind and honest you've been with me about everything."

"You are welcome, little red," he replied with a cheesy grin. "Is Riddle okay with you talking to me?"

Ginny lifted her chin in defiance, "He better be. He's not in charge of choosing my mates for me. I can speak with whomever I damn please."

Abraxas didn't look convinced, "If you say so."

"I do," Ginny stood firm. If Tom possessed any problems with her speaking to Abraxas, as a friend, especially after she let him see into her mind, Ginny was certainly going to kick his sorry arse. “You’re my friend.”

“You’re mine too,” Abraxas flashed her a soft smile. “Oh, I was going to ask you. Over the summer, my parents usually throw these dreadful events where a bunch of Purebloods are invited and everyone kisses each other's arses. I’m going to invite you. You can hide out in the garden with the rest of us and keep me company.”

“You sure hyped it up for me, sheesh Abraxas. Sounds positively  _ thrilling _ . I won’t be kissing  _ anyone _ ’s arse,” Ginny laughed with a slight shake of her head. “But I’ll come, sure. I’ll be staying at Leaky for the summer.”

"Brilliant. I'll owl you when I’ve got the details. See you later?" Abraxas asked, cocking his head ever so slightly, allowing a few strands of pale, yellow hair to fall across his forehead. 

"See you later," Ginny agreed, giving him a little wave as he disappeared to go find his mates.

For a moment, Ginny was unsure where to go. Tom was likely still talking to Professor Binns about the bloody story. She grumbled to herself about stupid, Thamalas the Most Evile. Nella and Ros could be anywhere. Shrugging the feeling of uncertainty off, Ginny headed off toward the Great Hall, thinking she might catch a glimpse of someone to bother along the way.

A burst of noise startled her as she headed for the staircase. She paused, craning her head to listen. Someone was yelling down a nearby hall. No,  _ several people  _ were shouting _. _ It sounded like a fierce argument. Curious, Ginny spurred forward and strode toward the commotion, wand at the ready.

The sight of Walburga Black squaring up against Septimus Weasley caused Ginny to stop in her tracks. There were a couple of others there, too. Rebecca Bennett-Scheinfield and Schala Shardlow, both sixth year Ravenclaws, were kneeling along the wall with their wands out. Both were protecting a smaller boy who was crying hysterically and clutching at his face. 

"He's just a child, Black, you bloody psycho!" Septimus bellowed heatedly, his wand out as he and Walburga circled each other. The rage etched on Weasley’s face reminded her so much of Charlie that it made Ginny’s heart ache.

"He did it on purpose!" Walburga hissed, letting a jet of purple fly from her wand wordlessly. It missed Septimus by a longshot, hitting a statue instead. "The little Mudblood doesn't know his place. I will show him where he belongs and teach him some bloody respect!"

Septimus dashed in front of the boy and two Ravenclaws swiftly, "Protego!" A shield erupted in front of them, sparing them any harm from the spells Walburga sent in their direction.

"Filthy blood traitor," Walburga spat and sneered at Septimus. Her face contorted into a horrid display of pure rage. "Disgusting, revolting Mudblood loving scum! You Weasleys are a scourge upon all Purebloods!"

Blood boiling, Ginny stepped up beside Septimus and turned to the trio on the floor. Up close, she could see the singed skin of the boy's face. There were boils and pus hidden behind his hands, dripping down onto his robes. The sight of the wounds made her stomach turn. Ginny glanced over her shoulder before kneeling down and whispering, "Rebecca, can you and Schala get him to the Hospital Wing? I'll cover you. He needs to be seen by Madame Golightly, quickly."

Rebecca nodded fervently, taking the little boy's hand in hers. Schala helped pull him up to his feet. The trio began to slink off, with the two older girls practically carrying the boy off from the altercation. 

"I AM NOT FINISHED WITH YOU, MUDBLOOD!" Walburga shrieked at their retreating forms. She was practically shaking with rage, trembles visible in her arms. "You will pay for what you've done, you stupid Mudblood!  _ Stupefy _ \--"

"Protego!" Ginny bellowed coldy, shielding the fleeing trio. "Back off, Walburga. Leave them alone!"

The larger girl laughed haughtily and sneered, taunting both Ginny and her grandfather. Walburga stepped closer to the duo of redheads and waved her wand, still trembling, “ _ Confringo _ !”

Septimus dove out of the way of the errant spell, just barely dodging getting hit with it. A small fire sparked on the rug where the spell struck. Ginny hurried forward, wand outstretched and ready to summon water to extinguish it, but Walburga was quicker than Ginny to react. 

“ _ Diffindo! _ ” Black bellowed, brandishing her wand furiously as she cast her spells.

The spell struck Ginny across the left side of her chest, tearing her shirt from neckline to clavicle. No skin broke, but Ginny felt a swell of panic fill her up. The familiar feeling of fight or flight surged within her bones. Flashbacks of Hogwarts--  _ her Hogwarts _ , came flooding back. She was intimately acquainted with battle; with people trying to destroy her and those who stood against blood elitism. Rage melded with the urge to defend the innocent and went tearing through her like a storm. She whirled around to face Walburga Black, a spell on the tip of her tongue.

Again, Walburga’s reaction was instantaneous, “ _ Crucio!” _

Septimus’s howl of rage rang in her ears as Ginny’s body crumpled. Pain she hadn’t felt in nearly a year overtook her and Ginny could not refrain from crying out. Every muscle pulsed, with every nerve aflame. Her bones felt as if they were being pulled apart. Fiery, searing aching encompassed her skin. And in an instant, the pain dissipated, leaving her breathless. Septimus was kneeling by her side, with his hands under her armpits in an attempt to pull her upright. Walburga had the upper hand and the foul woman was highly aware of it.

The toes of her black, velvet boots rammed into Ginny’s leg as she leered down at them, cackled, and muttered another spell. This time causing a warm, sharp slash across Ginny’s chest. The redhead girl could feel the blood this time; feel it dripping down her chest, staining her white shirt.

“You bitch,” Ginny spat, fumbling for the wand that she’d dropped during her dance with the Cruciatus Curse. “You cowardly, evil,  _ hag _ .”

“Shut it, blood traitor!” Walburga hissed. Her wand rose once more, but the thunderous sound of footsteps approaching their area of the hallway stopped her. The spiteful witch took a few steps back from the two redheads, looking for an exit strategy. 

Dumbledore appeared, with Rebecca Bennett-Scheinfield tagging along behind him. They were both out of breath. His observant blue eyes took in the scene, staring at Walburga with her wand still in hand as she stood nearby the two redheads. Septimus held Ginny’s upper-half in his lap, while blood dripped down her chest. A small fire was raging behind them on the rug. The typically amiable man stared at Walburga Black, with disdain etched into every line of his face as he swiftly extinguished the fire, “Miss Black--”

“You shan’t talk to me without my father present!” Walburga quipped snippily, stuffing her wand into her robes. “I demand to see the Headmaster and there I shall wait for my father. Only then will I speak about what has occurred here, Professor. I was  _ attacked _ first! Whatever I have done was in self-defense!”

“Liar,” Septimus tugged on Ginny again, hoisting her to sit up. “Professor, Black is lying. She hurt one of the younger boys and she attacked Pyrites! Her own, bloody housemate! She hexed--”

“Mr. Weasley, please take Miss Pyrites to the hospital wing, while I escort Miss Black to the Headmaster,” Dumbledore voiced coolly, still leveling an expression of disbelief upon his face at the display before him. He motioned curtly for Walburga to follow him, escorting the angry witch away from the scene of the crime.

Septimus pulled Ginny up by her underarms once more, trying to tug his fellow ginger to her feet, “Can you walk, Pyrites?”

“Let me help you, Weasley,” Rebecca hurried forward to assist Septimus in hauling Ginny to her feet. Rebecca flinched as she took in the wound across Ginny’s chest, gasping as the curly-haired Ravenclaw realized how torn the girl’s shirt was. “Pyrites, you can wear my robes, it will cover--”

“It’s fine, I don’t care,” Ginny muttered through grit teeth. Modesty was the least of her worries at this point.“I will be alright, thanks Rebecca, thanks Septimus. I can make it to the Hospital Wing myself, you two don’t have to--”

“We’re taking you there. Dumbledore’s orders,” Septimus cut her off firmly, ignoring a questioning look from one of his housemates as they walked by. He sounded as fierce as any Weasley Ginny knew and wore a look that mirrored her dad’s when he was determined. “You’re hurt and you helped me out, I’m going to make sure you get to the Wing in one piece, Pyrites.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Ginny argued. She was, mostly. A little shaken from the use of the Cruciatus, but it wasn’t the first time the forbidden spell had been used on her. It was unfortunate to admit, but the more one felt the effects of Crucio, the easier the aftermath was to deal with. Her previous time at Hogwarts, as the war ramped up, had left her body accustomed to the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. If anything, Ginny was simply livid about the situation. Walburga Black had attacked a child and proceeded to attack herself and Septimus for defending the boy. She would have done more if Dumbledore hadn’t arrived when he did. The woman was dangerous. Her treatment of Sirius Black, her own flesh and blood, had already proven to Ginny how cruel Walburga was. 

“My goodness, another one?” Madame Golightly gasped as the unlikely trio entered the Hospital Wing. She took in the scene, heart clamped over her chest. Ginny could only imagine what was going through her head as an injured Slytherin barged into the room, assisted by a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw. House Unity was far from being a common occurrence in this time. Inclusion of Slytherins had been scarce even common in her own time. 

“Madame Golightly,” Septimus greeted the woman kindly, but urgently. “Dumbledore sent us, Pyrites got attacked and--”

“Leave her in my care. Take her to the bed please, delicately!” Madame Golightly lifted her skirts and hurried to the cupboard where she began pulling out salves and potions. “Thank you both for bringing her to me, now hurry along. I am sure your Heads of House will be looking for the both of you once they are informed of the situation.”

Rebecca squeezed Ginny’s hand supportively before hurrying out the door, casting a few furtive glances back. Septimus, though, lingered at the foot of Ginny’s bed, frowning.

“Mr. Weasley--”

“I’m going, I’m going!” the redhead interrupted with a groan. “Thank you for coming to my aid, Pyrites. You’re one of the good ones. Actually, I think you’re the only good Slytherin.” Septimus turned on his heel and hurried from the room before the Mediwitch could give him any more flack for lingering.

Ginny frowned as Madame Golightly pulled curtains around the bed and ripped the rest of her blouse off, pushing the fabric back to examine the wound. The dark woman examined the area thoroughly, the creases in her face lessening, “It’s not cursed like that poor boy’s face, just an ordinary cut. That simplifies things.” 

The gentle woman began to wipe down the area with a damp washcloth, her touch featherlight. Ginny only winced when the salve was poured onto her skin; a tingling sting flooding over the injured region. The girl hissed as Golightly pressed strips of bandage crossed her chest and fully removed the remains of the blood-stained and torn blouse. When Madame Golightly was satisfied, the woman tugged the blankets up to cover Ginny’s chest, giving her some modesty. 

“I suspect Albus will wish to speak with you about the matter,” Madame Golightly spoke quietly, washing her hands in a large basin. “I gather this was the doing of someone in your own House. Perhaps the same person who hurt the little boy who was brought to me?”

Ginny nodded, wanting to protest. Madame Golightly knew of Ginny’s past, but it was futile to make an argument for her correct House. She wasn’t a Gryffindor anymore, not now anyway. She sighed and nodded, “Walburga Black, the cow.”

The woman pursed her lips, “Mm, she is often the cause of problems. Stay here, Miss Pyrites, until Albus comes. I’ll check the wound in a bit”

As expected, Dumbledore arrived just a short while later. He was less than impressed with the ordeal, though not angry with Ginny for fighting back. In fact, he applauded her standing up to evil in Slytherin and hoped it would encourage more Slytherins to fight against bullying and the like. He reminded her to take care of her identity and not place herself in harm's way.

Ginny agreed with most of his assessment, but argued vehemently when Dumbledore suggested she stay in the Hospital Wing overnight, just to avoid tensions in the common room. Of course, Madame Golightly echoed similar sentiments which settled the argument. 

Scowling, Ginny asked if Walburga would suffer any repercussions for her actions. Dumbledore had declined to answer, but the look of irritation that flashed across his face told Ginny enough. She would use her father’s name and influence to sway Headmaster Dippet to get her out of any serious trouble. Dumbledore merely smiled politely at Ginny’s frowning face before wandering off with the Mediwitch to check on the little boy who was in a bed across the way from the redhead.

As suppertime arrived and Ginny ate soup in the small patient's bed, Ginny found herself wondering if anyone had notified Tom about what happened. Surely, he would notice if she did not come to supper, or return to the common room. It was likely that Walburga had already spread word of Ginny’s folly and allegiance with blood traitors and Mudbloods. The entire dynamic in Slytherin was likely to change now, for there were many fond of Walburga or at least, afraid of her. If sides had to be chosen, Walburga was sure to win. Ginny would have to fight tooth and nail to show them she wasn’t the villain. Without Ginny there to stop him, would Tom lash out? He didn’t like Walburga Black, though Tom didn’t like most people. He also did not like Muggleborns or support Ginny’s tolerance. Maybe he would take the side of those who would call Ginny blood traitor.

Frowning, Ginny decided to deal with that later. There wasn’t anything to be done now, other than appease Dumbledore and Golightly by staying the night in the Hospital Wing. She was less than thrilled about that choice. Ginny made herself comfortable among the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, feeling annoyed about the entire altercation that had occurred that afternoon. Why were people so hateful and awful? She dwelled on the matter as her eyes closed.

  
  


_ “Ginevra.” _

_ An icy, cruel voice echoed through the Chamber of Secrets. A shiver galloped up her spine, prickling the back of her neck with bullets of sweat. Her lips trembled as she stepped down a crumbling, stone step. A metal grate hung on the wall across from her, while both the right and left paths were dark and uninviting. Ginny stood still, contemplating which direction to go.  _

_ “Ginevra.” _

_ She turned left, bare feet dragging roughly across the damp Chamber floor. Her cream nightdress caught on a jagged stone, but the ginger-haired girl pulled it free. Ginny trudged toward the echoing voice, wanting to find it’s owner. Her heart fluttered, needing to know who was awaiting her.  _

_ “You can trust me, Ginny Weasley, I’ll not tell a soul your secrets. Come to me.” _

_ She smiled, picking up her pace. Her confidante! She needed to find him. Her feet pounded across the moist stones, pain shooting through the heels. Ginny didn’t care, she just wanted to find him. He was important to her, there was nothing to debate about that. The veracity of that fact resonated in her very being.  _

_ “Tell me everything.” _

_ Of course, Ginny would. She slowed, reaching a large atrium, filled with pipes and smelling stale. There was a moat of water in a half-circle around the room, a towering, dark figure stood in the center. She approached slowly, a smile on her face. He was there, he was waiting for her. _

_ The figure took one large step into the light. Tom Riddle; handsome and perfect, with the most sinister sneer on his perfectly kissable lips. Of course it was Tom, it was always Tom. Who else would she expect? Ginny reached out for him, longing to feel his touch. Words of devotion danced on the tip of her tongue, longing to be uttered. Her arms wrapped around his middle, embracing him lovingly. Just as she opened her mouth to disclose her feelings to him, Ginny was met with a surprising torrent of pain in her chest. A silver-handled knife glistened as it protruded from her chest. Gasping, the girl stumbled backwards and collapsed onto her rear-end. _

_ “I-I thought you--” she stammered, tears filling her eyes. The liquid burned within her sockets, blurring her vision. Her chest heaved, throbbing with each intake of breath. _

_ The heartless man laughed harshly, “You thought wrong, Ginny. I never loved you.” _

_ Hazel eyes she had grown to adore turned crimson and menacing. His youthful face aged before her, revealing Lord Voldemort. Bald, red-eyed, and more snake-like than human. He hovered over her, laughing cooly as he watched the blood race out of her body. Voldemort’s wand pressed into her cheek, as his face lowered to hers, their foreheads nearly touching.  _

_ “You are nothing to me.” _

_ Ginny’s heart broke, chest throbbing with anguish. The warm feeling of life leaving her began it’s crawl up her body, beginning with her feet. It was like icy, bony hands were massaging their way up her frame.  _

_ “You were a tool. A vessel. A means to an end,” Voldemort continued, his voice high and cold. This wasn’t her Tom, not anymore. “That’s all you are Ginny Weasley. You ought to have killed me long ago.” _

_ Ginny tried to open her mouth, but an invisible force seemed to be clenching her jaw shut. The creep of death had reached her lower back now. Scorching tears tracked down her cheeks. She was unable to look away from the horrible red eyes. She wanted her Tom back; the one that let her in, the one that kissed her so delicately. Not the one who claimed another name and murdered those she loved. _

_ “You’re nothing, nothing, nothing,” his voice echoed. “I never loved you. Who could love a useless girl like Ginny Weasley?” _

_ She wanted to argue, she wanted to fight back, but the ferocity within her had drained away along with her energy. The room was growing dark; darker than it was already. Ginny didn’t want to believe that Tom hadn’t once cared for her. Her eyes shut and his harsh laugh reverberated around her. _

With a start, Ginny bolted upright. She gasped for air, the feeling of a knife in her chest lingered from the dream. Her hands groped at herself, touching the bandages stuck to her skin. Shuddering, the girl reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. ‘ _ It was just a dream. It was a dream,’ _ Ginny took a sip of water and breathed in deeply. 

“You’re awake,” a voice from her nightmares startled her. 

Ginny gasped again, fumbling for her wand. A cool hand closed over hers, halting her movements. For a moment, Ginny thought the eyes that stared back at her in the moonlight were crimson. Blinking, she realized they were hazel and filled with anger. 

“Tom?” Ginny whispered, not bothering to pull the blankets up to cover herself. She drank in the sight of him as he was now; completely void of the snake-like face that belonged to his future self. This was _ her _ Tom, the one perilously close to falling over the precipice that would guarantee him the future Ginny desired to prevent. She was a boulder in his path, trying to make herself as difficult to move as possible. She was desperate to succeed, for so many reasons. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I have my ways,” the frigid voice did not offer any explanation. His grip remained tight on her hand. “You fought Walburga Black.”

It wasn’t a question, Tom had likely heard about the entire incident already. Ginny nodded, squeezing his hand, “I tried to. She was picking on a first year student. I couldn’t let her get away with it. Walburga was casting nasty hexes at all of us. She used an Unforgivable on me.”

His eyes snapped to hers, “She did what?”

“The Cruciatus Curse,” Ginny replied in a tired tone. The dream was still lolling around her head, making her feel uneasy. “But, I’m okay. Crucio doesn’t affect me as much anym—“ A sinking feeling flooded her abdomen. She should not have said that. That was classified information. It could reveal too much about her past.

Of course, it didn’t escape Tom’s notice. He rose from his chair and moved to sit beside her on the small bed. Piercing eyes stared into hers. Ginny panicked, wondering if Tom would insist on seeing the memories with Legilimency. There wasn’t any way she could hide that from him, if he tried. Tom’s face was contorted into one of pure anger, “I beg your pardon?”

Ginny looked away, unable to meet his furious hazel orbs, “From when my uncle attacked. It’s one of the few things I remember about that night. When Walburga used it on me, I remembered how it felt the first time and tried to fight it.” Her explanation was weak, but she left it at that, there was no other reasoning she could offer without causing warning bells to go off. 

A long finger slipped under her chin, touching her little scar and turning Ginny’s face toward his. Tom’s eyes were narrowed into violent slits as he stared into her face, “Black hurt you. That is unacceptable. You ought not to have defended the boy, but I suppose it doesn’t surprise me that you would. You’re too noble at times, Ginevra. But Black... you’re worth ten of her. How  _ dare _ she harm you.”

“Don’t do anything to her,” Ginny ordered. “Please. It’s not worth it. I bet all of the Slytherins are on her side now. I won’t be able to touch her.”

Tom snarled in disbelief, “You hold more sway than you think. Several of our classmates are furious with her for hurting you. No one knew about the Cruciatus bit though, they only think she injured you a bit. Malfoy looked as if he might slug the bint. Rackharrow was livid and Greengrass appalled. You’ve more allies than you think, Ginevra.” 

Ginny found herself surprised. Walburga held so much power, Ginny expected every to leap to her side to stay in favour. This boded well for her return to the common room, “No one needs to know either.”

“I knew I should have cursed her,” Tom growled, cupping her cheek. “The way she spoke about you, it was all I could do to stay quiet. But I needed to know what had happened. Bennett-Scheinfield informed me that you were here. Walburga hadn’t any inkling of your location and was telling anyone who would listen that she was going to have you expelled.”

“She wishes—“

“I would like to request you not engage in anymore altercations. You are more than capable of handling yourself, I know this. But... I would rather be at your side, no  _ Weasley _ should have to watch your back,” Tom leaned in to kiss her lips gently. 

Ginny pulled away, but leaned into his shoulder. It was a tight squeeze having the both of them in the bed, “Tom, I can’t allow her to torment Muggleborns if I’m around to stop it. I will stop anyone I come across.”

“Even if it were me?”

She leaned away, giving him a murderous glower, “Yes, even you. You know how I feel about this. Are you hurting Muggleborns behind my back?”

Tom did not back down from her gaze, “I have not been, actually. I was never as much of an imbecile about it as Black, doing so with witnesses and in broad daylight. But, I’ve done things you would be less than thrilled about Ginevra. Does that scare you?”

Ginny rubbed at the bandages across her chest in discomfort, “No. I’m not afraid of you. Disappointed, but I think you can be better. Everyone does things they regret. I care for you, but I won’t stand for unnecessary violence, Tom. How long has it been since you hurt someone?”

He remained quiet a moment in thought, “Perhaps two months, roughly. Maybe less.”

There were so many things she wanted to say in reply to that. The idea of him being cruel made her angry and fearful, but the fact that Tom was confiding in her again left Ginny in a conundrum. Did she reprimand him or praise him for trying? Which option was least likely to send him running and hiding behind his walls again? Ginny resigned herself and took a deep breath, “What have you done, Tom?”

His dark eyes flashed, a menacing smile danced across his face before fading. Tom seemed to be reflecting on his actions, “I have done many wretched things, Ginevra. Things that I fear would turn your stomach or make you angry with me. I have hurt people; hurt them badly. Before I met you, my goal was immortality and to show the world how much better those with wizarding blood truly are. My tie to Salazar Slytherin will lead me to the power and respect I deserve. Those who shamed me for my father’s blood will regret it, for I will be more than any of them. But... I find myself second-guessing my actions. Thinking about what you might think of me. What would you do if I told you I have killed before, Ginevra?”

“I wouldn’t believe you,” Ginny lied effortlessly. 

Tom Riddle took both of her hands in his, leaning in, “Ginevra, I have used every single Unforgivable Curse. I am the reason my father is dead. I am the reason my filthy, Muggle grandparents no longer live.”

The frightening chill that coursed through her could not be suppressed. She was unable to take her eyes away from his, “Why?”

“Why did I do it? Because I abhorred them. That pathetic excuse for a man left my mother to die. He despised what she was. The man could not spare a single care for me, the child he left to suffer and scrounge to survive,” Tom retorted harshly, his eyes flashing with a burning rage. “Even when I arrived at their doorstep, they tried to shove me away and claim that I could not possibly be their family. My mother had hoodwinked my father into loving her, so I was nothing to them. Every sneer, every disgusted glance they cast my way... it just confirmed what I already knew -- Muggles were  _ scum _ .”

“Not all,” Ginny whispered, her heart plummeting into her stomach. “Not all of them are like that Tom. You’ve met some terrible people, but there are good--”

“I killed the remaining, living Riddles, Ginevra,” Tom interjected, staring penetratingly into her eyes. “I have tortured our classmates for information. I  _ hurt _ people. Do you still want to be with me?”

Ginny felt as if her tongue were made of lead, “I do. I know you’re better than this.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” she said firmly, bringing her lips to their joined hands and kissing his knuckles. “I see a good man within you, Tom.”

He scoffed, “If anything, that would be because of you, Ginevra. You do things to me I thought impossible.”

“Good,” she whispered. “I’m glad I do that to you. I want you to be good, Tom. More than anything. I can overlook past mistakes, I’m willing to.” Ginny had to, if she wanted to continue making progress. The few atrocities committed now could be ignored if she were able to prevent the future. 

With a softness she hadn’t expected from him, Tom’s long fingers skimmed over the bandages across her chest. His touch stopped just at her breast, “You are far too good for me, but I find myself flattered you would remain by my side. But, if anyone ever deigns to hurt you again, I will destroy them. There is no way for me to express how much I desire marching back to Slytherin and giving that foul woman a taste of her own medicine.”

Ginny shook her head, “Don’t. It’s not worth it. Besides, if anyone owes her, it’s me.” She flashed a nasty smirk at her boyfriend.

His touch raked over the bandages once more, “It brings me much unhappiness to see you like this.”

Ginny snickered, “Topless?”

“That part is acceptable,” a devious smile crossed his beautiful features. “But these wounds... I want to hurt her, Ginevra.”

A yawn escaped her before she could make an inappropriate remark. Tom rose to leave, looking to excuse himself to allow Ginny to get some rest. Her hand snaked out to quickly grab his elbow, “Stay a few more minutes?”

“Only for you,” he whispered and sat back down on the small cot, keeping her company until Ginny fell asleep once more.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

The atmosphere in Slytherin was definitely testy when Ginny returned the following day. Walburga spread many vile things about Ginny, leaving an air of doubt about where Ginny belonged. It was unpleasant, but ultimately, she cared little for how Walburga and her crew of hateful friends felt about her. Those who mattered to Ginny stayed loyal, and there were those who surprised her with their support.

Lucretia had been one of those who disagreed with Walburga’s assessment. She berated her cousin for attacking an innocent little first year, no matter what his blood status was. The blonde had a fondness for children and a much softer heart than her cousin. It was only due to Lucretia’s insistence that Ginny remained allowed to visit Sarissa’s Haunt still. Ginny truthfully didn’t care about that privilege, but it was a kind act from Lucretia Black to have fought for her. 

Maria Malfoy had also stood up for Ginny, as best as she could manage in her timid way. The soft spoken Slytherin requested with a slight stutter that Walburga and Theodisia stop calling Ginny foul names one evening in the Common Room. The two bullies retaliated by poking fun at Maria until her brother stepped in to tell them off. Abraxas, of course, was also supportive of Ginny.

A few of others who surprised Ginny by being sympathetic toward her were Lycurgus Yaxley and Sapphira Elleswood. The latter was someone Ginny seldom spoken with. Elleswood was a Pureblood seventh-year, but disliked Walburga for some reason or another. The girl approached Ginny with her peculiar blue-purple eyes and midnight-black curtain of hair cascading around her pale face to announce that if Ginny were to fight against Walburga, she would join. 

Lycurgus had simply just taken a liking to Ginny, in a platonic way. He did not endorse Ginny’s defense of Muggleborns, but he did take solace in Ginny defending herself and her beliefs. The bloke remarked how unconventional it was to see a Slytherin take a stand against other Slytherins. It was something that needed to happen, the boy thought. Ginny was obliged to agree. 

It was easy to ignore Walburga’s antagonization of her, especially knowing there were a few wonderful people who had her back. Ginny also found herself in better graces with some of the students from the other Houses now that word had swept through the school about Ginny’s defense of a Gryffindor. 

Rebecca and Schala, both Ravenclaws, had begun greeting Ginny fondly in the halls and occasionally even stopping to speak with her and Tom. The two girls were somewhat uneasy around him, but very warm toward her. Tom, of course, informed Ginny that Rebecca was Halfblood, while Schala was a Pureblood from a lesser-liked family. Ginny did not care in the slightest what their blood statuses were, but stored the information away for later.

The two girls had informed their fellow Ravenclaws that Ginny was a decent sort, so that meant others sought her out too. She started making friends with Simon Toke, who was flamboyant and hyperactive, his brother Linus in seventh year, and Linus’ girlfriend Ruth Gambol, who was nearly as whimsical as Luna but the opposite in appearance. 

Septimus,  _ her grandfather _ , talked with her frequently, telling her funny jokes or making puns that had her rolling her eyes hard. This was the Granddad Weasley she remembered and it made Ginny’s day sometimes just to listen to his stories. His close mates, Ignatius Prewett and Magnus MacDonald, also started being considerably friendly to Ginny as well. That gave her an in with the Gryffindors, since she’d saved one of them. The little boy, Septimus had told her, was named Klifford Warcastle, and he was a bit of a wimp and a crybaby. Nonetheless, he had not deserved Walburga Black’s wrath. 

Surprisingly, it was the Hufflepuff’s that remained hesitant with Ginny. They seemed to find her curious, but none approached her. Not even Ralessa Gamp, Ginny’s pretend cousin. In Ginny’s original time, she had gotten on pretty well with Hufflepuffs and had found them quite trusting. It seemed to be quite a different bunch, but Ginny didn’t mind. It was nice to see at least some House unity occurring. 

  
  


It was mid-April when Dumbledore finally requested for Ginny to visit him in his office one evening, under the pretense of discussing her arrangements for the Summer holidays. Tom had been disinclined to let Ginny go, to which she not-so-kindly reminded him that she could make her own decisions. She told him it was a natural discussion to have, as she’d stayed at the school for a little while last summer and it was not something they typically allowed. Ginny also remarked to Tom it was most likely Dippet putting his dirty work onto Professor Dumbledore to inform Ginny she had to get out on her own for the summer and not expect a free stay. Tom reluctantly agreed and bid Ginny adieu before heading to the library to study, as she took off toward Dumbledore’s office. 

He was waiting for her at the door, ushering her inside. Dumbledore shut and locked the office doors behind her, casting a few hasty charms to ward off eavesdroppers. Ginny watched him curiously as the man who inspired so many approached the Pensieve. Ginny dropped into a desk at the front of the room.

“I would like to see more on this Chamber of Secrets incident in your time,” Dumbledore said quietly. “I’ve watched what you showed me of the diary and Riddle’s spirit bringing you down there, with Harry Potter saving you. But... I need to know  _ more _ . It might solve some unresolved questions I have with the incident that happened in this era. Please, Miss Weasley. I know it might be painful to trudge up those dreadful moments in your life, but it may be imperative to prevent any further mishaps.”

Ginny’s skin crawled as the sardonic, cruel voice of the diary’s Tom Riddle came to mind. She vaguely remembered many of the things she had been coerced to do. It brought forth feelings of shame and anger to the forefront. Resolute and confident, Ginny stood up straight and nodded her head, “You already suspected Tom of opening the Chamber before I told you.”

Dumbledore nodded once, “Yes. I have known deep down it was his doing. Alas, no one else thought it possible. Tom Riddle is an impeccable student and an exceptional manipulator. I apologize, I mean no offense.”

“None taken,” Ginny quipped, giving Dumbledore a furtive look. “I’m not being manipulated, in case that’s what you’re thinking.”

Splaying his hands out in surrender, Dumbledore smiled sadly, “I was not accusing you, Miss Weasley. I assure you, I have the utmost faith in you. As a time meddler, you are aware of the risks you are taking. There is little doubt in my mind that you believe you’re making headway.”

“That I  _ believe _ I’m making headway,” her voice rose just an octave as she repeated the words. They tasted rotten in her mouth.

“Yes,” he spoke carefully. The blue eyes that stared at her were pitying. “I have my worries, of course, but I have seen a bit of improvement. I’ve not caught wind of him doing anything questionable, at least, though he has been known to elude me. Nonetheless, you do believe you’re advancing with Tom Riddle, correct?”

Ginny narrowed her eyes slightly at the man, “Yes, Professor, I do. You’re not privy to what I have seen and heard. He has confided in me and opened up about his past. I consider that tremendous progress. Riddle isn’t known to share or express himself in those ways. I have made that breakthrough.” 

“Has he?” Dumbledore seemed taken aback a moment. “That’s... impressive. I do hope he has been genuine with his information?”

She crossed her ankles and shifted in the desk, “I believe so. It matches what little I knew from my time. A friend, Hermione, she told me a lot more than I should have known. She was my best friend.” Her heart lurched for the girl who was not alive yet. Hermione would have known how to help Ginny.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. He was deep in thought, frowning at the runes on the Pensieve. He sighed deeply before glancing up at Ginny again, “I am pleased to hear your progress report on the matter. I think we should continue with what I have brought you here for. Take your time to gather the memories, they will likely cause you some pain and anguish to reflect upon.”

Ginny steeled herself, recalling the very first moment she noticed the diary. It had been tucked in between her new school books, a welcome surprise after the embarrassment of a trip they’d had. Ginny could recall how awful she had felt when Lucius Malfoy insulted her family. She felt guilty for hating her secondhand robes. The diary had been a sort of treat for Ginny. She had written about her day in it, but then watched as the words disappeared. Crestfallen, Ginny resided herself to believing it was just a joke from Fred and George. Before she could chuck the thing into a bin, Tom Riddle wrote back. It had taken some time before he convinced her it wasn’t a prank book created by her brothers, but a real thing. 

The memories flooded her after that. Ginny closed her eyes and tugged them out. They did not come out in one, long strand this time, but in several smaller chunks. There were things that Ginny could only marginally recall, so those strands were short and thin. Dumbledore provided as many vials as she needed, capping them off and setting them delicately into a wooden box. When Ginny thought she’d plucked out as much as she could of that time, she shivered and stared at the small pile of vials.

“There’s a lot,” Ginny remarked, feeling apprehensive about the man seeing some of the worst memories of her life. 

“You need not stay,” Dumbledore told her kindly. “I might take some time reviewing these, gathering as much as I can. When I have found all I need to know, I will seek you out once more.”

Ginny rose and paused, watching Dumbledore select the very first vial of memories she had procured for him. She grimaced and headed toward the door, “I--, er, I’m sorry for what you’ll see, Professor. I didn’t know what I was doing.” 

“Miss Weasley, you were eleven. You were hoodwinked by a dangerous object. There will be no judgment from me, I assure you,” Dumbledore stated at her retreating finger. “Have a splendid night.”

The time meddler hurried from the office, a feeling of unease and shame washing over here. She knew there was no reason for it. Her sins had been forgiven and written off as brainwashing, but Ginny hadn’t truly forgiven herself for being hoodwinked. It didn’t help that Professor Dumbledore expressed doubt in Ginny’s plans and progress. Angry, Ginny reminded herself that she’d promised to stop doubting. Second-guessing herself constantly would get her nowhere and only hinder her momentum with Riddle. 

She couldn’t seem to quell the irritation she felt. The desire to prove herself, to demonstrate that Ginny Weasley could be a hero was overwhelming her. The need to be victorious was like a Niffler’s need to find shiny things. Ginny huffed as she stormed the library, ignoring the look of distaste from the librarian and her reminder that the library was about to close for curfew.

“Tom,” Ginny greeted him, staring into the eyes of the man who had ruined so much of her childhood. 

The bloke looked up, his face expressionless and onguard. She watched as his features softened upon recognition. The inner turmoil quelled within her and she tried to tame it. Tom tilted his head as he took in her tense disposition, “Are you upset, Ginevra?”

“A little,” she spoke briskly. “I don’t want to talk about it. Can we go to the Astronomy Tower or something? I don’t quite feel like returning to the Common Room.”

“It’s nearly curfew,” the Slytherin Prefect sat up straight, eyeing Ginny warily. “What do you want to do up there?”

Ginny breathed out of her nose, letting all of her feelings free, “I’m miffed, alright? It’s not Professor Dumbledore’s fault exactly, it’s not his fault I have all of these memories and feelings that come up when certain questions are asked. It makes me feel crummy and--and ashamed, I guess. I just--I just want to make things right, for everything to just be okay.” Her voice wavered at the end, but she remained strong. 

“You would like to discuss these feelings of yours up at the tower?” Tom questioned, ostensibly confused by her miniature tirade. “We could likely speak in the Common Room or--”

“I don’t actually want to talk about any of that,” Ginny held up a hand to silence him. “To be honest, Tom, I’d like to go up there and snog you senseless and bash Walburga Black and you can tell me how everything’s going to be fine and... and... Oh, I don’t know. I’m just in a mood.”

Her boyfriend remained mum for a few long moments. Long enough to make Ginny feel exacerbated further by the way the night had turned. Dumbledore’s doubts wiggled around in the confines of her mind, showering her in apprehension. She was just about to give up and go to bed when he finally spoke.

“Let me gather my things. We must be careful about getting caught. I’m a Prefect, afterall. It wouldn’t be prudent for me to be caught doing something irresponsible.”

Tom's excellent perceptiveness kept them out of trouble as the couple navigated their way to the tower. He was patient in corridors they couldn't hide in and had excellent hearing when it came to figuring out where a castle ghost could be lurking. 

It was exhilarating sneaking around with him. Perhaps, it was the Weasley penchant for mischief that fueled her. Her crappy mood dissipated with each step and the discontent Dumbledore left with her abated to a low murmur. Ginny could even fondly recall nights she had snuck around the castle with Dean or Michael without the stabbing feeling of loss filling her. 

It was chilly, but not overly so at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Ginny leaned against the marble, peering out at the starlit sky. A perfect crescent moon shone overhead, illuminating the Hogwarts grounds. It was a breathtaking sight. Tom soundlessly joined her, his hands placed on the marble edge, as he too looked out at the view. 

"You know," Tom practically whispered. "This is the only place that has ever been a home to me." 

Her heart lurched. She pitied him, so very much. His lack of love and family killed Ginny inside. The Weasleys had been filled with affection and care. It was so unfair for Tom to miss out on the most basic parts of life. Ginny stepped closer and rested her head against his bicep, too short to reach his shoulder, "Oh Tom."

"Do not pity me," he mumbled coldly. "It is what it is. Nothing can be done to change that."

"That's not true," Ginny stared at a particularly bright star for a bit. "You can have a home outside Hogwarts. You'll have to make it yourself. Having no family makes it difficult, I know, but you could build your own family. Wife, children, eventually grandchildren. I know you can have all of that." 

"Unlikely," he disagreed, frowning at the night’s sky. "I'm better off without."

Ginny scowled in protest, "How do you know? Are you afraid that anyone you let get close enough to build a life with you will abandon you?"

Tom turned his head, shielding his eyes from Ginny. He took some time to respond, "I'm not afraid."

Tugging on his arm, she forced him to face her, "You are! I've not abandoned you, have I?"

"Not yet."

Exasperated, Ginny threw her hands into the air, "Tom! I don't plan on it. If... " she trailed off, plotting her words carefully. It was always the juggling act with him. "I would build that life with you, Tom." 

A gust of wind struck them both, making Ginny tremble. The couple stared at one another. His mouth was tight, jaw clenched. Ginny knew her own expression was blazing, tempting him to argue with her. Neither backed down, neither uttered a word. 

They reached for each other at the same moment, Tom moving them to the wall behind the staircase to shield Ginny from the wind that had decided to pick up in tandem with their own chaotic feelings. Tom stooped to meet her mouth, hands caressing her form. Ginny arched into his soft touch, hands delving into his soft hair. 

He kissed her with fervor. He kissed her with passion. There was a fire burning between them; a need that took over. Hands wandered, moans slipped out into the night as they began to touch one another under the light of the crescent moon. 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Apprehension and panic started to fill Ginny as April dwindled into May.

She had lived an entire year in the past, even if she hadn't been conscious for some of it. An entire year away from her family and friends. She missed everyone dreadfully. It was hard to imagine continuing to live without them.

But Ginny persevered, as she always did.

Impending exams were a welcome distraction from the homesick turmoil Ginny was keeping at bay. She threw herself into her studies, spending lots of time with Tom in the library or with Nella, Ros, Rebecca, and Schala out by the lake. 

Her band of friends had expanded to include the two Ravenclaws more regularly. Nella and Ros were both quite receptive of the girls, welcoming them to hang about on weekends or after supper. It was becoming a habit to see the five of them gossiping together and giggling. Ginny was pleased by the acceptance of it all. 

Rebecca and Schala were good additions to the group. Once relaxed enough to be herself, Rebecca was as excitable as Nella. The two were both boy crazy and romantics at heart. Schala was a bit more subdued and incredibly smart. She assisted the girls with any and all questions about their lessons. Her humor was dry and Schala often cracked jokes that went over everyone else's head.

"I think Rathmore and I will be betrothed by the end of summer," Nella was telling the group. She set aside her books and leaned back on her hands, squinting up at the sky. "I got a letter from my mother yesterday, she hinted at an upcoming event this summer that would seal my future."

"Maybe she's shipping you off to an all-witches coven in Norway?" Ros quipped with a teasing smile. 

Nella scoffed and stuck her tongue out at her friend, "Oh, pishposh. What else could it be? Honestly! It has to be an engagement."

Rebecca giggled, looking dreamily out across the lake, "I hope it's romantic."

"Please," Ros laughed coldly. "Signing a slip of paper for betrothal isn't romantic in the slightest. It's rather lackluster, actually."

Nella's eyes narrowed at her friend, "Hang on--"

Ginny pointed accusingly at Ros, "You say that like you  _ know." _

"She clearly knows from experience," Schala spoke up from behind her thick, Arithmancy book. "Tell them who it is already, Ros, and we won't have to endure them all badgering you for an hour."

Ros grimaced and started tugging at blades of grass, "My father arranged something over Christmas."

The shriek that erupted from Ornella Greengrass turned several heads in the area. The exuberant Slytherin paid the onlookers no mind as she grilled her closest friend, "Roslyn Patience Rackharrow--"

"Oh don't you full name me, Ornella Hesper--"

"--you are engaged and didn't see fit to tell your best mate?!" Nella spoke over her friend, wide-eyed and scandalized. 

Rebecca tittered behind a hand and began to braid Ginny's hair. The Ravenclaw girl was a wonder at ornate braids and hairstyles, quickly becoming Ornella's favorite when it came to beauty. The Halfblood girl beamed at the group, "Spill it, Ros, you know we are all dying to know."

Roslyn frowned, appearing quite bothered by the whole idea. Ginny knew the tall, dark girl didn't like the idea of arranged marriage. It was an archaic rule Pureblood families still clung to, though Ginny gathered than many were beginning to fight the concept or swore their children would be allowed to make their own matches. Ginny opened her mouth to tell Roslyn that it was fine to want to keep it mum.

"Elpidius Fancourt," Roslyn spoke in a hoarse whisper. "He is  _ thirty." _

"Why him of all people? Surely, someone your own age would be a better fit?" Schala pressed curiously, she peered over her thin glasses at the girl. 

Ros sighed and tossed her grass bouquet into the wind, "I think it's because I said I didn't fancy any of the boys at school. My mum thought that meant I needed a more mature husband."

Ginny understood immediately, heart going out to her friend, "Oh Ros..."

"That's outrageous!" Nella announced. "There are plenty of fanciable, single blokes here. It isn't not right of them to decide you should marry someone so  _ old _ . I am offended upon your behalf, Ros."

"Why did you sign the agreement?" Rebecca questioned, still working her fingers at Ginny's long red locks. Ginny could feel her hair being twisted and pulled into a French plait. Knowing Rebecca, the finished product would look amazing.

Roslyn blinked a few times before answering, "I didn't know what else to do."

Ginny was angry for her friend. It irked her how much the Purebloods controlled each other's lives. She couldn't imagine her parents sitting down and creating a contract to sign away her physical being to someone she hardly knew. She chewed on her lip, wondering what she could do for Roslyn.

"You should break the contract if you're unhappy," Schala remarked without looking up. She balanced the book on her knees while she shoved her glasses up her long nose. "It's better now than later."

"I agree," Ginny replied quickly, wondering if Schala had read between the lines too. "You ought to live your own life. Make your own choices. It's insanity that Pureblood families still do this."

"It's being faded out slowly," Schala said nonchalantly, shrugging a shoulder. "By the time any of us have children, I doubt it'll be much of a thing anymore. My family has already forsaken the tradition."

Rebecca tied off Ginny's hair with an extra red ribbon from her bag, hands flitted over her work to examine for imperfections. She scooted to Nella and began playing with the girl’s long, blond hair, "I'm pretty grateful I'm a Halfblood. No pressure here." 

"I'm envious," Ros bemoaned. "Maybe your mum should adopt me and I can claim I'm no longer Pureblood."

Nella looked hurt by Roslyn's omission of the news, but was determined to be supportive, "I'd keep you safe if your parents get angry. You know I would, Ros."

Ros smiled sadly, "I know, Nella. Thanks. I'm just... embarrassed a bit. I'm sure it will be fine. We spoke briefly over the holiday. He seemed kind enough. Very interested in traveling, so that could be something to look forward to. He's been loads of places."

Ginny bristled. She didn't like the reluctant acceptance of a bleak future, "I still think you ought to fight it. It's unfair to subject yourself to that life."

Ros shrugged, "I'd be alright. Just, wasn't expecting a bloke almost double my age, you know?"

"What kind of name is Elpidius anyway?" Rebecca questioned brightly, trying to lighten the mood. She was using her wand to curl Nella's hair into pretty waves. "What would you call him in the bedroom?"

Roslyn grimaced with a short laugh, "I don't know. Pid?"

Ginny snorted, "Pid?  _ Ohhh _ ,  _ Pid _ !" 

The other girls laughed too, Roslyn brightening significantly. The dark girl wrinkled her nose, "I mean, it's better than moaning Elpi."

"Elpi!" Nella banshee shrieked, before covering her mouth with her hands. "That sounds like a Mermish name or something."

Schala giggled, finally setting her book down, "Oh, that would be more like this." She performed her best impression of a mermaid shrieking out the name Elpidius, making all the girls giggle uncontrollably and some onlookers give them dirty looks.

Roslyn attempted to collect herself, "I should have told you earlier. I feel better about it now. Not happy, but better. At least I know now that I'll have some support with Ol' Pid."

"Pid," Nella wheezed. "I just pictured a pig with a toupee. I don’t know why!"

"Me too," Ginny gasped, clutching her stomach as she laughed. "I'm so sorry Ros."

"Don't be, this is bloody hilarious," the girl replied, grinning. "He's not pig-like at all, sorry to disappoint you all. You'll see him at the wedding I'm sure. Ugh, weddings. I hate weddings."

Nella wiped her eyes, giving her best friend a sympathetic look, "I'll be here to help every step of the way, Ros."

"Thanks, you lot," Ros smiled. "So, Ginny, are you and Riddle going to tie the knot after school?"

Rebecca resumed her curling of Nella's hair, "Oh, surely they must, he stares at Ginny all the time. Never seen the bloke so starry-eyed. Normally, he's unapproachable and kind of frightening." 

Ginny's smile faded. She didn't know. She hadn't wanted to think about the future. Since she was ten years old, she had fantasized about marrying Harry Potter. It was a stupid fantasy, one Ginny hadn't put any stock into until Harry finally noticed her. The thoughts of what could be had flooded Ginny the moment Harry kissed her after the Quidditch game. She let go of those dreams though, knowing how unlikely it would be that Ginny would return to her own time. New dreams had not made themselves home in her head, for Ginny tried hard not to dwell on what came next. It seemed unlikely that Tom would want to marry or have a family. He was so focused on goals and success, Ginny clung to the hope that she could merely shift his focus. 

The idea of her wearing Tom's ring made her feel clammy. She briefly thought of herself wearing the dress she'd wanted to wear while marrying Harry, but Tom stood at the end of the aisle waiting for her instead. She swallowed and shrugged, "We haven't talked about it."

"I'm sure he's thinking about it," Rebecca reassured her with a smile. "It is still quite common to be wed just after school. People like Elpidius Fancourt are rare. I'm certain he would want to keep you an honest maiden."

"Assuming his urges haven't swayed you already," Nella tittered, waggling her eyebrows at Ginny. 

"Haven't," Ginny answered darkly, though it wasn't for lack of trying on her end. "I don't know. I'm not worried about it." 

Schala adjusted her thin-rimmed, round eyeglasses and fixed Ginny a look, "I suppose it's different for you two. No parents on either side to get on your brooms about it."

"Schala," Rebecca scolded, looking sharply at her friend. "That's not a nice thing to bring up. It hurts when your parents are gone." Rebecca looked down at her lap and Ginny knew the poor girl was thinking about her father, who had been killed in the Muggle world for being Jewish. 

Ginny shook her head, smiling fondly at Rebecca, "It's quite alright. Schala has a point. There's no pressure for us. We can sort of do as we want. No one to nag for grandchildren or the like. It's sad, don't get me wrong. I miss my family terribly. But, I've no pressure weighing me down about my life after Hogwarts."

"I'm envious of that," Roslyn remarked wistfully. "I'm glad my parents at least encourage me to be a working woman. I'm not sure I could do the Housewife life. It seems so dreadfully boring."

The rest of the girls nodded their agreement, including Nella. She was the one who bought into the childish fancies of the Pureblood world, but even she wanted a career of her own. Nella had admitted to wanting to be a Mediwitch post Hogwarts, something Ginny strongly encouraged her to become involved in. 

"I think I'd go mental at home with children all day," Schala picked up her book again. "I don't think I want any, if I'm to be frank."

"Me either," Ros echoed the sentiment. 

Schala continued, "I would much rather further my career. I want to be invested in my work and come home to a husband, who is also steadfast in his career. Then we can make love and drown ourselves in wine and laugh at those of you covered in spit-up and diaper horrors. " 

Nella's mouth dropped, but she began to laugh, "Merlin, Schala. Diaper horrors, that's revolting."

Schala grinned, showing off a perfect smile, "It's the truth. My little cousin was a nightmare. Bodily fluids upon the walls, and the like. I do not want any of those rugrats."

"I want four children," Nella said dreamily, touching the curls Rebecca had given her. She pulled her legs into a pretzel and adjusted her gray skirt. "Three boys, one daughter. If I could choose, of course. I would name them Oliver, Daniel, Humphrey, and Millie. Oh, and I want a cat."

Ros patted her friend's knee, "Might want to check that out with Rathmore first." 

Nella smiled, ducking her head. The curls dipped in front of her face, but were unable to hide the blush on her cheeks, "I will."

"I think I'd like one or two children, perhaps," Rebecca said thoughtfully. "Suppose I need a boyfriend first, don't I?" She moved toward Roslyn and began to tame the mane of curls the girl had tried to keep back with a navy blue headband. 

"What about you, Ginny?" Nella asked, peering over at her. 

"Three children," the time traveler answered immediately. She had known that answer ages ago. Ginny most certainly wanted less children than her parents had born, but didn't want anyone to be an only child. She always liked having siblings, even if there were far too many of them. A medium sized family would suit her perfectly. 

Rebecca peeked at her from behind Roslyn's back, "I wonder if your babies would be ginger like you, or darker haired like Riddle."

"Hopefully at least one will retain those darling freckles of yours," Nella remarked, placing her hands on her own freckle-less cheeks. "Any sons will likely be as handsome as Riddle is."

"Tall, dark haired, freckled, and handsome," Rebecca announced. "A stunning combination, I reckon."

Ginny was uneasy while the girls theorized over the looks of any future children. It was hard to imagine that life these days. Tom had warmed to her considerably, but not enough for any of this. Plus, Ginny wasn't sure she really wanted this life with him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Her future self ought to have completed school, played Quidditch, and married Harry Potter with her parents and brothers all present. 

At least, that's what she once wanted. 

Now it was hard to picture a life with anyone but Tom. Harry had become a memory she kept near to her heart, but struggled to see herself with him anymore. There had been a time, not long ago, in which Ginny had been able to picture her wedding to Harry in clear detail. 

With a sickening pain, Ginny realized her feelings for Harry were practically nonexistent. Her heart no longer swelled when she thought of him. The understanding of the situation suffocated her for a moment as she came to terms with it. She cared for Tom more than Harry now and Ginny felt rotten for it. Harry had been a hero. He was  _ good. _ But Tom and his slowly fading walls were drawing her in. Ginny was starting to desire a possible future with Tom, the image of her with Harry slowly fading away. She dwelled on this as the sky darkened further, the sun beginning to disappear behind gray clouds. 

Merlin, she hoped that Dumbledore's assessment was incorrect. 

If Ginny were being manipulated by Tom Riddle, yet again, everything would be lost. McGonagall's last hope would be rendered meaningless. Her family would never be saved. 

But, she couldn't quite let herself believe that Tom had the upper hand. There was something, deep in her gut, that made Ginny feel strongly that she was on the right path. If he wanted to manipulate her, why would he have divulged his past with her? Why would he have admitted to doing wrongs? There was no advantage Ginny could find to telling her those things. Within Riddle was a better person who just needed some coaxing. Ginny needed to have faith in that possibility.

As if fate knew, the man in question strode toward Ginny and her friends. Tom made an impressive sight as he strode in their direction. Tidy dark hair rustled ever so slightly with each step. Hesitant, watchful eyes taking in everything around him. Tall, brooding, and far too handsome for anyone evil to be. Instinctively, Ginny bit her lip as she admired her boyfriend. 

"Afternoon, ladies," Tom greeted the group courteously, though he only had eyes for Ginny. "It looks like it might rain, you should all head inside."

Ros stared at the sky with pouty lips, "I was hoping for more Spring weather. It was so nice to come outside."

"It was, " Rebecca replied wistfully. The girls began collecting their things.

Ginny took her time, sort of wanting to dawdle until the other girls went on without her and Tom. Alas, it seemed like the start of light rain granted her wish. 

Covering her hair with a book, Nella led the charge toward the castle while she complained about ruining her hair. Ginny called a farewell to them and stuffed books into her bag. Before she slipped the bag onto her shoulder, Ginny turned to look out into the lake. The pitter-patter ricocheted along the surface. There were still glimmers of blue sky peeping out behind the dark clouds. Ginny almost felt like it was a sign of hope. 

"Ginevra? Come along or you will catch a cold," Tom placed a hand on her shoulder, slowly turning her to face him. 

Smiling, the redhead stepped backward, spread out her arms, and spun around in the drizzle. Just as she had done as a child. Ginny relinquished her sorrow for abandoning Harry and instead, looked to the future she was given. She smiled lazily as Tom, stepping toward him with need. 

He seemed perplexed by her actions, tilting his head curiously as Ginny approached, "Are you well? Do you need assistance getting inside?"

Ginny reached up to brush a few raindrops off Tom Riddle's face, her fingers trailing down his nose and cheek, then over the vague hints of stubble under his chin. Rising to her tiptoes, Ginny kissed him in the quiet, Spring rain. Just one, tender kiss before pulling back to admire the bewildered visage that adorned his face. 

Tom stared at her, mouth slightly ajar and eyes inquisitive and skeptical. A rare smile twitched his lips as he closed the gap between them, a hand coming up to cup her neck. He returned her kiss with gusto.

"Tom," Ginny whispered, pleading with all of essence for this to be the correct route for her life to take. If Tom was using her, then Ginny was already lost. She felt strongly for him, just as she had when she thought he was her friend at eleven, inside the diary. But this Tom wasn't fully corrupted yet. Ginny had planted the seed and was hurrying to sow it. 

"Ginevra," he answered smoothly. The hand not on the back of her neck came up to wipe droplets off of her nose. "You are so beautiful."

A soft, tinkling laugh escaped her in a rush. She was lost. She was done. She was so completely smitten. ‘ _ Let him drown me,’  _ Ginny thought. ‘ _ I'll take him with me if I must.’ _ This Tom had to be weakening. She could feel the success in every part of her body. There was no more room for Harry Potter in her heart. Only Tom Riddle remained. Earlier conversation crept into her mind, filling her with warmth that contradicted the cool rain. The idea of a life with Tom still frightened her, but it was all she had left. Moments like this, so tender, could move mountains. Tom could be saved. Ginny would make sure of it. 

"What's gotten into you?" Tom inquired, dropping his hands to his sides. 

"Look and see," Ginny whispered, daring him to search her mind. She would keep him out of the life before him. Thoughts of the afternoon flooded her as she braced herself. 

Tom was startled, but only a moment. He raised his wand, " _ Legilimens _ !"

The afternoon replayed for Tom, showing him all of the embarrassing conversation. The discussion of children, no parental pressure, how Ginny had admired him coming to meet them. Memories of gentle touches and kisses flashed by. His roughness at times that sparked arousal within her. The talks they shared privately away from others prying eyes. The moments in which Ginny made him laugh. Ginny thought again about the discussion about the future, questioning their life together outside of school. 

Tom dropped the spell in a rush. He looked strangled, conflicted, and a bit morose. He closed his eyes for a moment, "Ginevra, I cannot promise you a life with me."

"That's alright," she looked up at him, feeling content with his answer. There was doubt within him; a part of Tom that wanted the normal human things others wanted. There was a fragment of him that was still alive. "I just wanted you to know that there is a young woman wanting to share a life with you, for as long as you'll have her."

She couldn't read him. His expression had glazed over, leaving the shell of a person he presented to the world at times. But, Ginny had seen a glimpse of the conflict within him and knew it remained. Tom stood stiffly before her in the drizzle. 

"I love you," Ginny said simply. She felt strongly for him, truly. Her heart felt so full, yet fragile with Tom. Despite the things he had done, she still wanted him. She believed he could change. The monster hiding inside of him had not fully awoken yet. She might not have loved him as she had loved Harry, but Ginny knew there was a bond between them. Perhaps, one born from despair, but a bond nonetheless. 

The two walked slowly back to the castle, damp and quiet, but both content. 


	19. Chapter Eighteen

With exams under way, the castle was a place of tension and high emotion. Those taking their NEWTs or OWLs were stressing fretfully, oftentimes ending up visiting Madame Golightly for a calming draught. Mealtimes were filled with people balancing books on their laps while shoveling food into their mouths. Ginny had never seen Hogwarts so on edge before.

But, her time at school had been different. Exams had been canceled a time or two, or postponed and the like. There was so much more tension in 1944 and Ginny didn’t like it one bit.

She received a note from Dumbledore asking her to meet him in his office that late May evening. It had been delivered by Slughorn himself, who mentioned to Ginny that Dumbledore had graciously offered to discuss career paths with her. Slughorn was far too busy to do so, what with exams and everything going on of course. The rotund man was more than pleased to pass the buck to Albus. 

Ginny suspected she wouldn't be discussing career paths, but smiled and accepted the note regardless. 

"Dumbledore has taken far too much of an interest in you," Tom remarked as he eyed the note in Ginny's hand. He sipped on some tea while glancing down at the Ancient Runes book that lay on the table in place of a plate. Tom cast a dark look toward the staff table.

Ginny followed his gaze, "You think so?"

"I know so," he muttered, still glowering at their Transfiguration professor.

"Jealous?" Ginny asked lightly in an attempt to break the tension or change the subject.

Tom raised an eyebrow at her, "The man is old enough to be your grandfather, Ginevra."

She laughed uncomfortably, "I was just kidding, Tom. Like I have said before, I think he pities me. Slughorn hasn't taken any time at all to talk to me, despite my being new here and my situation. I think Dumbledore feels obligated to. Bloody noble Gryffindors."

"I suppose," he remarked with a sullen tone of voice. He glanced back down at his book.

"We're still on for Slughorn's pre-summer party this weekend, yes?" She nudged him, knowing the answer.

"Of course," Tom responded without looking up. "There is no one else I would rather attend the worst parties with."

Ginny snickered and grabbed a slice of bacon before the platter disappeared, "You flatter me, Tom." 

He flashed her a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "I need to be off to class now, I will see you for lunch?" 

She nodded and waved him off, finishing her breakfast. Dumbledore's assessment of her memories had not weighed upon Ginny lately. There were too many other things distracting her. Exams, friends, Tom, her mission... Ginny found herself not caring if Dumbledore thought less of her for allowing herself to be corrupted at eleven. She had been a child; a naive girl who just wanted a best friend. The nightmares she had endured from those memories were punishment enough.

Quickly, Ginny shook the thoughts away, opting not to think anymore on the matter. She would see Dumbledore tonight and find out exactly what the man thought. Ginny swung herself off of the bench and hurried to catch up with Schala Shardlow, who was on her way out of the Great Hall.

  
  


Nursing a sting on her left wrist from an Emerald Shelled Fire Crab that Professor Kettleburn had brought in from Fiji, Ginny made her way to Dumbledore's office. She supposed she ought to have stopped by the hospital wing for a salve first, but the wound wasn't great. Annoying, mostly. Kettleburn wasn't a very good teacher. Hagrid had only been marginally better due to his kind-heartedness. Kettleburn was just angry and unpleasant all the time. Ginny was sorely considering dropping the class next year. It was not one she would miss.

Dumbledore's office door was ajar in lieu of her impending arrival. She slunk inside, finding the man seated at his desk with hands folded. There was nothing discernible from the expression on his face. Ginny was reminded of Tom with how difficult they were to read. For a moment, she thought about commenting on that fact to the professor, but refrained. It was best to stay quiet when so many thoughts were concealed behind a stony face.

Ginny shut the door behind her and slid into the chair across from Dumbledore's desk where she usually sat. The two stared at one another in silence before Dumbledore finally spoke, "I apologize for taking so much time to review. I have had much to think about and reflect on."

Nodding, Ginny remained silent, waiting for the man to continue. She wasn't sure where this was going. Had he found out something? What did he discover from her memories?

Dumbledore's eyes seemed so tired, "The monster beneath the school was--  _ is _ a Basilisk?"

She inclined her head in agreement slowly, "Yes. That is how Myrtle died."

"Mm," Dumbledore made a noise of non-committal. He glanced over at the cupboard that held his Pensieve. "That confirmed a theory I had. The entrance to the Chamber is in the very bathroom Myrtle Warren died in." 

"Yes," Ginny confirmed, though Dumbledore clearly already knew the answer. She wasn't sure where he was going with this.

The older man remained carefully composed, "And Tom used a diary to control you. A diary filled with his essence."

"A Horcrux."

"Precisely. I believe we discussed many months ago that we both suspected at least one Horcrux had been created by Tom Riddle. These memories confirmed a thought I had about poor Myrtle's death after you first mentioned the dark magic. I believe she may have been used to create the diary horcrux," Dumbledore told her calmly.

Ginny was inclined to agree, but had a lingering thought, "Even though it wasn't actually him who killed her? It was the Basilisk, even if under his command. Does that count, Professor?"

Dumbledore stood, clasping his hands behind his back as he began to pace in front of her. His purple robes billowed around him. He sighed, "I'm afraid I'm not certain, but I have a hunch. Forgive my vanity but, my hunches are often correct."

"I see," Ginny thought back to Tom telling her about killing his father and grandparents. Had they granted him more Horcruxes? How many existed so far? She thought of the ring he wore sometimes; a gaudy thing of black and gold. Harry had once mentioned a ring. She thought of mentioning it to Professor Dumbledore, but hesitated. Tom trusted in her. Ginny needed to ask Tom about these things, or pry more out of him before she spilled everything to Dumbledore unnecessarily. "What are you going to do, Professor?"

"Well, Miss Pyrites," he spoke slowly and carefully, blue eyes piercing right into hers. "I will take care of the Basilisk and be done with Slytherin's monster."

Her eyes widened, "Sir?"

"I'll wait until the school is out for summer, of course," Dumbledore conversed as if he were talking about something far more lighthearted. "But, now that I have confirmed what lurks below and how to find it, I can stop it from ever being used again." 

Ginny erupted with elation. No Basilisk! Hermione would never be petrified, neither would Justin or Colin. Ginny would be an untainted eleven year old. Oh, Tom would be furious if he found out, but it was one step closer to foiling Tom Riddle's plans. She felt like crying. Her future self would not suffer. Harry wouldn't be accused of being the heir. This was a huge ripple that would change so much. 

She licked her dry lips and breathed out, "Thank Merlin. But... how will you kill it?"

"Oh, rather easily I think. Forgive my boasting once more, but I'm rather adept at dueling. It shouldn't be any different with a monster," Dumbledore waved the air jovially. "I do have more to discuss with you. And, perhaps, some homework... so to speak."

"Okay?" 

Dumbledore stood before her; tall and more auburn than gray. His purple robes hung loosely off of his form, glasses perched upon the bridge of his crooked nose as he looked down at her, "I want you to be certain,  _ absolutely certain _ , that Riddle has not swayed you into misbelieving him. I want you to dig deeper into what Horcruxes might already exist, so we can rid ourselves of them now. As long as they exist, Miss Weasley, his soul will never mend. They say love conquers all, though I am afraid we must wait longer to see. Can you do these things for me? Upon your return to Hogwarts for your final year, I want you to be confident without any hesitation in your relationship with Tom Riddle and his trust. I want a full report on whatever you may have learned."

She wanted to protest that she wasn't hoodwinked or ensnared by his wiles, but Ginny knew better to argue. He was giving her time to decide if she still wished to go this route. And if not? Dumbledore would assist her with another solution, even if it meant ending Tom's life. Reluctantly, Ginny nodded, "I will sir. And, er, Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Please be careful, with the Basilisk," Ginny suppressed a shudder. "It's bloody  _ massive." _

Wise, azure eyes twinkled, "It certainly is. I'll be careful, I promise."

She smiled weakly, unsure if she truly believed him. Of course, Ginny knew Albus Dumbledore was a powerful man, but the creature that lurked below was highly dangerous. Ginny took a gander at the Pensieve, "No other memories tonight?"

There was a hint of longing that twitched in the older man's eyes before he shook his head, "Not at the moment. It would be what some would call a  _ memory overload _ . The Chamber of Secrets is enough for me to handle at the moment."

"That makes sense," Ginny rose from the desk, intending to leave. 

"Miss Pyrites," Dumbledore switched to her alias. "My recommendation is a career in Hit Wizardry, as your sense of justice is strong. Or, since you're quite skilled in Charms, one of the proficiencies in that field - metal charming, weather charming, and so forth. In case anyone questions what I told you here tonight."

Ginny excused herself, feeling a sick sort of pleasure in knowing Dumbledore would take on the Basilisk. Removing that danger now would create such a different future. She struggled to imagine it. There were many variables at play with this course of action, many things that could come from it. But ultimately, did it matter as long as no one suffered? 

Tom was waiting for her in the common room, working on an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts that was at least a foot longer than it needed to be. Ginny hadn't even started her essay yet. 

A few others lingering downstairs cast wary glances at the two, but said nothing. Ginny ignored them and went to sit beside Tom at the little cherry wood table, "Sheesh, Tom. Essay long enough?"

"I'm nearly finished," her boyfriend retorted, scrawling quickly in his perfect writing. "So, what does He-Who-Knows-Everything think?"

Ginny stifled a laugh at the irony of the nickname, "Well, something with Charms or a Hit Wizard."

Tom finished the last sentence of his essay and set the quill down gently, "You do excel at Charms. There are many career choices that call for proficiency in the subject. Not just at the Ministry, mind you. St. Mungos, Diagon, WWN... I don't think I would want you to be a Hit Wizard, however. Though I respect your decision, whatever you choose to do."

"Why not?" Ginny pressed. "I definitely have no interest in it, but I'd like to hear your reasoning."

His eyes flashed a moment, with something unreadable, "Well, first, it's a dangerous profession. What boyfriend would want to see their girlfriend wrapped up in that? Second, I think the stress of prosecution would weigh you down. You try too hard to see the good in everyone, Ginevra. I just cannot see it to be a good fit for you."

Her eyes narrowed. For a moment, she was tempted to ask if Tom was afraid she would prosecute  _ him _ . The job wasn't something she wanted, though she understood why Dumbledore suggested it. She wanted to go growl at the professor and tell him off for it. Sighing, Ginny shook her head, "You're probably right, Tom. About the latter part anyway. You know I'm capable. Regardless, I think I'll aim for something in Charms. I'll see what happens next year. What are you hoping to do after school?"

For a moment, Ginny thought Tom would decline to answer or change the subject. He seemed perturbed by the question. His right hand clenched on the table, "I plan on... seeking power. Research. Structural reformation of the Wizarding world."

She was teetering on the edge of the cliff again as she contemplated what to say to him, "So... a position in the Ministry maybe?"

"Perhaps, though it may be bigger than that," he replied slowly, a sinister smirk on his face. 

Jumping off the ledge was looking quite appealing, but she kept her tongue in cheek, "You know, I think you'd make a good teacher."

"I've not got the patience for children," Tom scoffed, looking appalled. "I won't deny the idea has crossed my mind... as an individual capable of influencing young minds."

Ginny nodded slowly, "Exactly. I think it would suit you. Or, perhaps in law? You want reform, yes? Wouldn't that be attainable in Magical Law?"

Tom clenched and unclenched his fist, jaw tight. He looked down at the table, "I feel like you are comparing me to Professor Dumbledore."

"How so?" Ginny questioned.

"They all said he was great," Tom spoke acidly. "Great and powerful and mighty. But, he didn't choose power, he chose to teach. That's what you are suggesting I do as well, isn't it? I would rather have the power. I do not wish to be anything like that man."

"You aren't like him," she responded delicately. "First, I could see you teaching Defense or Potions. Second, you would be much less biased than he is. He is so favourable to Gryffindors, it's a little appalling. But if that isn't something you want to do, Tom, aim for Law. You could make changes there." And there would be others to keep Tom in check, but Ginny didn't say that aloud. 

"Perhaps you have a point with teaching," he replied, not quite meeting her gaze. 

"Although,” Ginny put a hand on his arm and smirked at him. “The students will think you so bloody attractive, they’ll be distracted and never get their work done. Maybe I shouldn’t encourage you to be the next Professor Almasy.”

Tom looked unenthused by that, but took her hand in his, “Ah, I shan’t make you jealous then, my dear.” 

“I wouldn’t be jealous,” Ginny leaned forward and brushed her lips against his jawline. “I trust you, Tom. I know you’re mine.” She knew she ought to behave herself in the Common Room. There were some stragglers; onlookers who were pretending not to examine the curious couple speaking quietly to each other. Despite the prevalence of their relationship over the last year, there were still Slytherins who found it intriguing to keep an eye on the two orphans and watch things unfold. Ginny overheard more than enough about that.

Tom hummed in reply. He seemed sorely tempted to pull her closer, but refrained. Romance in the face of too many people bothered Tom, so Ginny tried to respect those boundaries. She, too, wanted to pull him for a deep kiss. Instead, the two simply sat together talking quietly as Tom shuffled through his homework to make sure everything was complete for the next day. 

The more they sat and spoke amongst themselves, the more Ginny felt guilty for her conversation with Dumbledore. The fact that Dumbledore was going to get rid of the Basilisk was something Ginny considered necessary. It’s survival was a hazard to the future and yet another keystone in Voldemort’s pocket. That was something she would never feel bad for. However, there was a lingering feeling of unease about keeping so many things from Tom. Ginny firmly believed that he was genuinely trusting her and lowering his guard. If he were to find out, eventually, he might resent her. Ginny knew the price paid would be worth the outcome, even if it did make her heart twinge a little. She leaned into him, trying to regain a sense of optimism.

  
  


The next morning was chaos.

A whirlwind of emotions rang through the Great Hall when Ginny and Tom arrived. Professors were conversing at the front of the long room, their heads together. Students were visibly panicking. Some were crying, clutching onto each other for support. 

Ginny felt her mouth go dry as she glanced around, realizing Dumbledore was nowhere to be found. Had he gone after the Basilisk already? Had he been killed? If so, that would explain the reaction from the room. She glanced up at Tom, who appeared to be just as confused as Ginny. He pursed his lips, took Ginny’s hand, and walked briskly to the Slytherin table. 

“Avery,” Riddle spoke calmly, though Ginny knew he was far from it. The grip on her hand was tense, tight, and a little sweaty. He was worrying too, though perhaps, about something different from what Ginny was worrying about. Ginny wondered if he might know something she did not.

Without a word, Avery passed over a newspaper. There was a gleam of something in Avery’s eye that Ginny was not fond of. Tom took it and shook it out. He and Ginny sat down together toward the end of the table and studied the front page of the Daily Prophet.

_ DUMBLEDORE AND GRINDELWALD -- DUEL OFF AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC _

“What?!” Ginny gasped, bringing a hand to her chest. She had just seen Albus Dumbledore yesterday evening, when had he left to go fight Grindelwald? Was he dead? Had Grindelwald taken him down? Her heart raced in fear as she began to read the article.

_ Late yesterday evening, Grindelwald and several followers infiltrated the Ministry of Magic. It is unknown how the barrage of Dark Wizards were able to gain entry without any Alarm Charms being set off. Ministry personnel will be investigating. Witnesses claim the Dark Wizards began firing at will upon entry, killing any and all who stood in their way. The complete death count has not yet been announced, but the Ministry is under lockdown until further notice to assess damages and address additional security measures. _

_ Albus Dumbledore arrived on the scene just after ten o’clock in the evening and it is said the two wizards engaged in a fierce duel. Grindelwald immediately ordered all of his men to back off, stating he would be the one to end his rival. _

_ Ministry secretary, Madame Willa McManus, states -- “He appeared like a bat out of hell! I don’t think anyone’s ever seen Albus so fired up before.” _

_ Additional reports state the battle was a stalemate and both wizards sustained injuries. Grindelwald escaped before Hit Wizards could arrest him. Dumbledore was taken to St. Mungos for examination, but the extent of the injuries are not yet known. _

The skin on Ginny’s neck prickled, “Merlin.” 

“No wonder everyone is panicking,” Tom muttered under his breath. “As much as I’m loath to admit it, Dumbledore’s a leader to many. Far too many people rely on the man.” 

“I can’t believe Grindelwald infiltrated the Ministry,” Ginny muttered, recalling similar events from her own time. The atrocities committed in this era were along the same vein -- all for the sake of wizarding superiority. It made her feel ill. This was something she had no control over. Whatever Grindelwald did was beyond Ginny’s capabilities. 

"Have you heard?" Ros demanded, plopping down across from Ginny and Tom. "What am I saying, of course you've heard. I just passed a group of Gryffindors in the hallway talking about Dumbledore being gravely injured. I hope my father is alright, he's usually at the Ministry working late." Her face was wrought with worry. 

Before anyone could say more, Headmaster Dippet rose from the table, silencing the room with a sharp whistle. He surveyed the students while waiting for people to take their seats, "I am sure you are all aware of what occurred at the Ministry last night, but I will repeat it to be sure we are all on the same page. Last night, Grindelwald attacked the Ministry of Magic and it is true Professor Dumbledore left to aid in the fight. Alas, Grindelwald escaped and Albus is at the hospital with light injuries. We have spoken with him, as well as St Mungos staff, who have all reassured us that our Professor will return to us shortly." 

The hall buzzed with relief for a moment and Dippet allowed it, waiting for another opportunity to continue his speech.

"Now, we are all highly aware of how many of you have family who work at the Ministry; who may have been present for the infiltration. We have not received any additional information or names. In lieu of what has happened, we are canceling classes for the day. The teachers and I will be opening our floo networks to those who wish to check on family immediately. Please see your Head of House and arrangements will be made. I ask that you all take the time to do a bit of extra studying and keep one another company while we navigate this trying time. We will give another update during the lunch hour, though anything urgent will be announced before then," Dippet finished with a nod and sat back down, sipping his juice and turning to speak with Professor Mizuno.

Ros jumped up, "I'm going to see if Slughorn will let me floo my mum. Surely, she'd know already if something happened to father." Without waiting for a reply, Roslyn rushed off to the front of the room. Several other students had flocked to the teacher's table as well. 

"Bloody hell," Ginny picked at a piece of toast. She wasn't very hungry. 

Tom grabbed the pitcher of pumpkin juice, pouring both himself and Ginny a glass, "Indeed. What a turn of events. Would you like to study by the lake today?"

"I'm not sure I can concentrate," Ginny took the glass Tom offered her. 

"You can keep me company then."

After a quick breakfast, Tom and Ginny headed to the lakeside. It seemed a few others had the same idea, no doubt intending to gossip about the situation and debate theories on what happened or could be happening. Tom opted to take them a bit further out, away from the crowds. He quickly laid down his cloak for them to sit on and began rummaging through his bag, pulling out study material for the upcoming exams.

"What are you thinking, Tom?" Ginny murmured curiously. 

"I am wondering if I should bother studying for Defense. I'm excelling in that class and cannot see them asking anything I do not already know the theory on. Might just focus on Arithmancy," Tom replied, balancing the two books on his knees. He frowned at the two before pushing the Defense book aside.

"I meant about the situation," Ginny resisted the urge to roll her eyes or sigh in annoyance. "With Grindelwald."

Tom looked up at her, "It is what it is. He attacked. The Ministry needs to respond."

"That's not what  _ you _ think."

He frowned, "I am unsure what you want me to say, Ginevra. Grindelwald has been terrorizing England and America for years now. He is failing at achieving the power he is looking for. All he has done is maim a few people and scare the daylights out of witches and wizards alike. I shall use him as a lesson on what not to do when I make headway for my power."

"A few people?" The redhead repeated, taken aback. There were a lot of things in that statement she did not like. "He's killed plenty, Tom. Including having a hand in the death of my family. That's a little bit insensitive of you to say. Would you have murdered my family?"

"Not for land or money, no, which is likely what your uncle came for, onbehalf of Grindelwald. I'm not interested in any of that for what I intend to do. It was a rash of unnecessary deaths, what was done to you," he opened up his book to a chapter in the far back. "His idea for domination seems more about physically taking over countries and making the changes. Grindelwald doesn't seem to think that he could control them without it. If he used his influence, he might gain more followers, and with followers doing work in his name, he would hold all of the power."

Ginny made a face, "I see you have been thinking in detail about this."

"It's just simple logic, Ginevra," he replied as if he were speaking to a petulant child. "I am merely learning from Grindelwald's mistakes."

With a disheartening groan, Ginny lay back on the spread out cloak. She tucked her arms behind her head and stared up at the sky. Closing her eyes, she spoke softly, "I don't want you to follow him at all. I don't want you to be someone people are afraid of."

"They're only afraid of what they don't understand," he remarked. "I would go through great lengths to bring understanding to our world."

Ginny kept her eyes closed, trying not to think about what he would become if she didn't fix things, "I'm sure you will, Tom."

"Look, there are many things about this world that seem to be imbalanced. The magic we carry makes us different from Muggles. It makes us better than them. We have a gift and a few of their  _ kind _ end up with it, which should not be. Our magic is key to a better world for all, if only we could prove that. It is appalling we must live underground like fugitives," Tom explained bitterly. "I will not live in fear of someone seeing what I am. I will be strong, unlike my mother, who gave up. I will reign for a long time."

"You're already strong, Tom. Just because your parents did not love each other, and your mother died, doesn't mean YOU are automatically weak. You're already better than the both of them as you are. Tom, I care for you. I don't wish to see you become a hunted man like Grindelwald," Ginny opened one eye, taking in the beauty of Tom Riddle for what felt like the hundredth time. How could he believe this nonsense? The girl slowly maneuvered herself, so that her head rested against one of Tom's knees. 

He looked directly down at her, setting his book aside, "If all goes according to plan, I will not be hunted, but revered."

Bringing a hand up to his face, she touched his cheek, jawline, and neck before dropping her hand back down to lie beside her, "I sincerely hope not, but I worry. You are so stubborn, you know that? I'm telling you that this isn't the way to make waves among wizards and witches. You'll be hated or feared."

"I suppose it's a good thing I have never cared much for being liked."

"Does it make you happy that I like you? That I want to be with you?" Ginny pressed. "It must, because if it didn't then you wouldn't call me your girlfriend. You wouldn't let me touch you or kiss you or be around you as much as I am. There is a part of you that must want a more normal life. What exactly are your plans, Tom? All I know is you want to be strong and influential and immortal-- whatever the hell that bollocks is about."

The boy who wanted to become Voldemort gave Ginny an appraising look before licking his lips. His fingers thread into her red locks, brushing through the threads of hair. His eyes never left hers as he weighed his options and calculated his thoughts. Ginny waited patiently, her eyes never straying from his. There was an uneasiness cultivating in her chest, but she suppressed the urge to shudder it away. Instead, Ginny offered Tom a timid smile, in hopes of being encouraging.

Her hopes had nearly been dashed when Tom finally spoke up, “I am not ready to share all of the details with you.”

“That’s okay,” she breathed, trying not to sound completely terrified. “You can tell me whatever you’re comfortable with, Tom.”

He nodded once; a quick jerk of his head. Tom’s gaze strayed from hers, focusing on a point off in the distance, “There are... things that can make one immortal. I have been looking into them for a few years now. I have followers, so to speak, who believe in me and my intentions. I intend to use them, in a way, to do my bidding. It would allow me to be hands-off. I intend to rule from the shadows, be far more elusive than Grindelwald.”

This was as close as Ginny would get to a confession. She contemplated her words carefully, not wanting to create any dissonance just yet, “I admit, I’m not really following. Why would you need followers? Why couldn’t you just work your way to Minister?”

“Plenty of reasons,” Tom said curtly, fists clenching into the cloak he laid out for them. “I’m not Pureblooded. I’m not worthy of the role, despite my connection to Salazar Slytherin. I need to garner the favour of those who are pure in order to achieve my vision for our world.”

Her eyes closed, trying to find her grip on the calm that she knew resided deep within her, “That’s rubbish, Tom, and you know it. Your blood doesn’t--”

“Ginevra, stop,” Tom commanded, his voice firm and dominant. It struck her in the chest, leaving an ache and the urge to run away. She’d heard him speak in that compelling way many times, but Ginny was seldom on the receiving end of it. “We have been through this. There is little to say that will prove to me that those with lesser blood have any value in our society.”

“I’ll find a way,” Ginny replied heatedly. “I can’t have my boyfriend trying to kill everyone who he doesn’t deem worthy!”

The look he gave her was icy and unfeeling, “Then I suppose that’s where our relationship dies, doesn’t it?”

She shook her head, eyes warm with the threat of tears, “No, I refuse. I’m going to make you see reason, Tom Riddle, if it’s the last thing I do!” She wouldn’t lose. There was no way. Ginny swallowed and composed herself, “You’re better than all this, you know?”

“I ought to be,” he replied with a bite in his tone. “But my filthy, Muggle father--”

“He was a horrible human being with or without being a Muggle,” Ginny retorted. She sat up, pulling Tom’s hands away from her hair. “He would have left you whether he could use a wand or not. Your father is not indicative of what all Muggles are.”

“No, he isn’t,” Tom glowered at her menacingly. “But he did leave me his pathetic name and degraded me by existing.”

With a groan, Ginny jumped to her feet, “Tom Riddle! You’re not scum, you’re not worthless, and you’re not a nobody because your surname belonged to Muggles. How we get our magic doesn’t make us who we are. My blood doesn’t make me any better of a witch. Quite a few people are better than me, I’d say. Merlin, Tom, look at Mulciber. He’s Pureblood, but he’s dumber than a skrewt.”

“I think we ought to terminate this conversation for the time being,” Tom looked up at her with a rigid and eyes that surveyed the area around them. “There’s no need for a scene.”

“Oh like hell there isn’t!” Ginny hissed between clenched teeth. She stood her ground, hands on her hips as she seethed at him. “I’m tired of your  _ ignorance _ , Tom!”

His mouth contorted into a snarl for the briefest of moments, “You know not what you are saying. Sit down, Ginevra.”

“I will not.”

“Then run along, then.”

Ginny shook her head furiously, “I want you to listen to me, Tom. I want you to understand!”

“I’ve listened,” he spoke crisply, eyes staring off again. He seemed unhappy with what he saw. “I do not see things as you do. There is nothing else to it.”

“You’re not trying to see my side, though,” Ginny complained, not caring who saw them arguing. “You’re just being cruel--”

Tom held up a hand to silence her, “If I agree to let you try to convince me, will you sit down and stop making such a commotion? I am half expecting a professor to come see what’s going on over here. I apologize for riling you up. I shouldn’t have had this conversation with you.”

Ginny took a deep breath, trying to quell the fire roaring within her. She wanted to scream bloody murder or perhaps, slap him senseless. Instead, she sat down with her legs crossed, “Fine. I’m sitting now. You’re going to see sense, Tom-bloody-Riddle.” The girl pointed her index finger at him accusingly. 

He smirked at her and reached for his book once more, “My middle name is Marvolo, not Bloody. I suppose you have more to learn about me, don’t you?”

Her humour was not tickled. Ginny glared at him, “You’re a right pain in the arse, you know that.”

“And yet, for some reason, you still fancy me,” he said lightly. Tom rummaged through his back for his notes and began to compare them to the chapter in Arithmancy he was reviewing. 

She huffed, “For some reason indeed.”

He glanced up for a second, a mirthful smile on his face, “You asked earlier if it made me happy knowing you liked me. My answer is yes, it does. I am pleased knowing you care for me despite the apparent flaws you think I harbour.”

“And for some reason, you care for me despite my apparent flaws,” Ginny rolled her eyes. He was absolutely infuriating, even if Ginny knew she was making some sort of dent in his shield. 

“That I do, Ginevra,” Tom resumed reading his book and comparing notes.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts just a couple of days after the incident and refused to answer many questions about the ordeal. In typical Albus fashion, he evaded the inquiries, or remarked with something lighthearted or in jest. Ginny hoped to ask him about it and his plan for the Basilisk, but with exams finished and the year ending, she’d not had the time.

Packing slowly, Ginny frowned at the mess that had accumulated in her trunk. She needed to offload some junk, pronto. There was also the problem of her family history and the notes she had taken prior to the start of the year. Ginny was sorely tempted to throw it into a fire, but then again, what if she forgot something important in her story? Ginny bit her lip and thought hard for a few moments. The likelihood of someone finding them by accident was too great. Ornella wouldn’t think twice to rummage in Ginny’s things for a cute dress if Ginny left it unlocked. Sighing, Ginny pulled the notes and junk out and marched down to the common room.

It was fairly early and most people had already packed the night prior or were still asleep. Ginny was pleased to see no one down in the common room. The post-year chaos had yet to begin. Quickly, she tossed the papers that would give away her biggest secrets into the fire and waited for them to burn away. Satisfied with the loss of evidence, she returned to her dormitory and continued her last minute preparations.

Within the hour, pandemonium was well under way. Slytherins were yelling out requests to find missing objects and barking for the younger, slower students to get out of their way. Ginny had waited for Nella and Ros to wake up before dragging her things down stairs.

“Ohhh, I’m so happy it’s the summer hols!” Nella groaned as she dragged her heavy suitcase behind her. She also had two bags draped around her shoulders.

“Bloody hell, Nella,” Ros scoffed and held up a hand to stop the girls in their tracks. “You forgot to cast the Featherweight Charm on your suitcase. You’ll pull your arm off dragging that behemoth.”

“Only because our Nella packs bricks for the year,” Ginny giggled. “Or enough dresses to compare to bricks.”

Nella stuck her tongue out at them and quickly cast the charm on the suitcase. The trio proceeded toward the entrance of the school, where the swarm of students was congregating. Ginny kept an eye out for Tom, but it was hard to see much of anything through the throng of people. It didn’t help that Ginny was terribly short, so her vision was very obscured. She clung to Roslyn’s side, as she was pretty lanky and could navigate the trio.

“Are you sitting with Tom on the train?” Nella asked as they emerged through the crowd, following another group down to the Hogsmeade train station. It was nice enough that they didn’t need, nor want, a carriage. The few Thestral-led carriages were plowing ahead along the other path. Ginny didn’t need to wonder if the other girls could see the thestrals, she knew they couldn’t. Neither of them had seen death as Ginny had.

Ginny shrugged, “We haven’t really talked about it, but I think so.”

Ros gave Nella a quick look, “We can sit with you if you can’t find him. I know you probably won’t want to sit with some of the other Slytherins, but--”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about me. I’ll sniff my boyfriend out,” Ginny interrupted cheerfully. She didn’t want to create any more of an issue. There was a definite rift amongst the Slytherins since Ginny had defended that first year Gryffindor. Walburga made things a bit rough, but it was easy for her to ignore the hag. Nella and Ros were still on decent terms with some of the people who were more inclined to support Walburga and Ginny didn’t want to spend a few hours in a compartment with anyone who was hesitant around her. 

Ros frowned and glanced warily at Ginny, “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” she replied firmly. “Come on, we’re straggling behind.”

The girls made their way down the dirt road that led to the train station. The sun was shining high above them, but the breeze kept the temp cool. Laughter filled the air around them. Students joked and hollered at one another, calling out farewells and requests to meet up over the summer. Ginny hadn’t the foggiest idea what students in this era did over the holidays. Her heart twinged at the idea of spending the summer without her family. The hope of seeing her mum still lingered, though Ginny was highly aware of how unlikely it was. 

Ginny maneuvered through the train, calling out a hasty goodbye to her friends as she headed toward the back. She thought it was highly likely her boyfriend would have wandered back there. She proved right as she stopped in front of the last compartment on the right, where he was seated alone dressed in some shabby Muggle attire. 

She slid open the door and dragged her suitcase inside. Tom immediately rose to help her lift the valise up into the overhead. Once that task was complete, Ginny sunk down next to him and let out a sigh of relief, “Well, Tom, we’re done with sixth year.”

“Indeed,” he replied politely as he stared out the window. The train was beginning to move.

“I hope you can get out of the orphanage quickly,” Ginny touched the arm of his thin, black shirt, trying to be reassuring. “We can both be at Leaky and see each other all the time. You’ll be sick of me by July.”

Tom’s face was blank and perfectly composed, not a hint of the anger and desperation that Ginny knew resided within showed, “I am aiming to be at the Leaky Cauldron by the end of the week.”

“That’s no time at all,” Ginny remarked, pleased. 

He didn’t reply, keeping an unruffled expression. The displeasure that radiated off of him was smothering. Ginny shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with the hem of her navy blue cardigan. There was little she could say to quell the fury Tom harboured over his needing to return to the orphanage. She pitied him, truly and now that she had no family alive at this time, Ginny had begun to understand the overwhelming loneliness of being an orphan. Familial love provided support and nurture a child needed. It was unfortunate beyond words that Tom had never felt that sort of love.

A few people popped into their compartment to talk to the two, but no one seemed to want to stay. Ginny wasn’t sure if that was due to Tom’s sullen attitude or the fact that he and Ginny were alone in there. Tom was perfectly polite to all visitors, but didn’t seem particularly happy about any of the well-wishers or requests to meet up during the summer. 

Once Mulciber was on his way and it seemed that the visitors had ceased for the moment, Ginny turned to Tom, “Are you going to be grumpy the entire train ride?”

“I’m not grumping,” Tom retorted stiffly.

Ginny rolled her eyes at him, “Yes, you are. I know you’re unhappy about going back to the orphanage. I don’t have a family to go home too, either. I’m hoping you can leave the orphanage soon. We can spend time together when you’re not working. I’m looking forward to that sort of freedom with you. You’ll show me all of the ins and outs of Diagon, won’t you?”

Tom shifted his body toward hers and reluctantly nodded, “I--I am rather displeased about going back, yes. It’s the same every year. This time, I at least have a chance to get out for good. And of course, I will show you around Diagon in more detail, if that’s what you wish.”

Finally, an honest answer. She felt relief in knowing he was attempting to communicate with her, “There’s no shame in feeling like that, Tom. Things are tougher for you than others. Very few could ever truly understand your situation. I can only understand half of it myself. My offer of paying your way at Leaky for the summer still stands. Or, we could room together if that would make the money part of it easier to swallow.”

There was a glimpse of shock on Tom’s face, “Absolutely not. That would most certainly get people talking if two unwed school children were sharing a room. I will be fine, Ginevra. I intend on working. Whatever I do not spend on my board will be put in Gringotts to accrue interest while I am at school. I cannot live at the Leaky Cauldron forever.”

“I suppose you have a point, on all accounts,” Ginny agreed, touching his arm again. “We’ll need a flat to live in once we’re out of school for good.”

“We?”

Ginny paled, but forced a confident laugh, “Well, I mean, in the case you want me around that long.” She glimpsed up at him, taking in the look of childish curiosity on his handsome features. It made her smile wide.

Tom leaned forward and kissed her nose, “I suspect I might want to.”

She beamed, hoping that was an honest statement. It would be so much easier if she could show him what a homelife was supposed to be, perhaps fill their flat with so much love that Tom would be overwhelmed by it. Ginny snuggled into his side, “That makes me happy, Tom.”

“Your presence brings me pleasure,” Tom spoke quietly, staring into her eyes. “I’m not sure how to explain it. I am glad to have met you, Ginevra.”

Satisfied, she curled up into his side and enjoyed the remainder of the train ride with Tom. They spoke of places to go during the holidays and what might be in store for them in the future. Ginny found it to be a pleasant conversation.

The Knight Bus was just as terrible as Ginny remembered it being in her own time. 

After leaving Tom at the station and meeting a few parents of her mates, Ginny had hailed the bus to come retrieve her. The driver was a sallow looking man with a thick accent that introduced himself as Mr. Vadnovich. Ginny had taken a spot near the front, as her stop was the closest of the bunch. She was very grateful to have skipped eating on the train, as she most certainly would have been ill on the bus. It weaved through the Muggle streets, jostling the passengers around. Ginny’s body lurched into the window, stomach roiling at the movement. Her head swam as they took a hairpin turn, tires screeching.

“Thank Merlin,” Ginny moaned through a nauseated stomach as the Knight Bus stopped in front of the Muggle entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. She dragged her belongings inside, breathing through her nose in an effort to quell the sick feeling.

The pub was bustling, but not crowded when Ginny entered. A witch was smoking a pipe at the bar, reading the Daily Prophet. A small family was seated at a far table, with the two boys throwing chips at one another. One man was chatting up the female bartender with a panicked look on his face. Ginny took a deep breath and walked up to the male at the bar.

“Morning, I have a summer reservation. Under Pyrites,” Ginny told him quickly and quietly, not wanting to garner attention.

The male bartender was hairy. He had unruly brown locks and a mess of a beard and mustache. Ginny couldn’t see his mouth. A soft voice with a slight lisp replied, “Ah, yes. I remember hearing from Albus about you. One moment and I’ll get the reservation book.” The man turned his back to her and pulled out his wand for a summoning spell. The reservation book flew into his hands. 

“Room 316,” the female bartender escaped from the man chatting her up and joined their conversation. “I just had Sorcha ready it this morn,”

“Yes, that’s it,” the man with a lisp nodded and noted something beside Ginny’s name. “I’ll get your key.” He rummaged beneath the counter and procured a velvet box filled with little golden keys. Thick fingers began to rifle through looking for the one Ginny needed.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” the female spoke softly. “My name’s Geraldine Pragg. I’m the landlord of the place. This here is Pol Barbary. Let us know if you need anything, alright?”

“Thank you, Geraldine,” Ginny replied uncomfortably. 

Geraldine smiled, showing off crooked, yellow teeth and dimples in her cheeks. She had graying, black hair that was swept back into a low ponytail, olive skin, and warm gray eyes. The woman had some scars on her left cheek, a curvy body, and a well-endowed chest. She wasn’t necessarily beautiful, but handsome and had an inviting presence. The woman motioned to Ginny’s bags, “If you’d like some help, I can have Pol carry that up for you.”

“Oh no, thank you,” Ginny replied politely, glancing at the hairy man who had finally procured her key. 

Geraldine took the key from the man’s thick fingers and examined it, nodding when she guaranteed it was the correct room key, “Here you go. We’ve already had your payment arranged with Gringotts, so you’re set for the summer. Breakfast is available for all staying long-term at seven in the morning. It’s available until we open at eight-thirty. Sorcha, our maid, comes by to clean rooms in the late mornings. She’ll knock before entering.”

Ginny took the key and nodded, “Thank you again. I appreciate it.”

“It’s not a problem,” Geraldine smiled toothily again. “Let us know if you need anything at all, sweet one.”

“Room 316 is on the left side of the third floor,” Pol half-whispered with his lisp. “Have a pleasant stay, Miss Pyrites.”

After bidding the two bartenders goodbye, Ginny dragged her luggage behind her and made her way to the third floor. It was fairly quiet up there, though Ginny could hear the sound of a man opera singing from far down the hall. She snickered at the noise before eyeing the number plates on the left side of the hall, looking for the room that would be hers for a few months. Upon finding it, she unlocked the door swiftly and dragged herself and her belongings inside.

The room was pretty spacious. She had stayed at Leaky before with her family one night when she was fourteen. The rooms on the second floor were much smaller, and likely far less expensive. Ginny’s eyes rest on the large, queen-sized bed that sat along the wall to her left. The blankets were midnight black, with odd silvery and gold designs on them. There was a large, circular mirror above the dresser on the wall across from the door. It looked extremely old with it’s thick, twisted border that appeared to be made from some type of dark wood. There was a small table by the window beside the dresser, just large enough for two people to have tea if they wanted. Some artwork of a dark forest hung above the bed, looking a bit spooky. The bathroom was fairly tiny, but had an old-fashioned tub that looked fairly appealing just then, after the train and bus rides. Overall, it was a decent room and would suffice for the summer. Ginny hoped to be out and about more than cooped up in here anyways.

Ginny unpacked a bit, stuffing her clothes into the drawers and her books on top of the dresser. She didn’t have a lot of belongings. She would need to make another trip to the tailor for some more clothing, which was something Ginny was not terribly thrilled to have to do. 

With a few things left in her suitcase, she gave up unpacking and flopped onto the big bed. It was squishy and spacious, but didn’t have the same feel as her bed at home. 

Did the Burrow even exist in this time? Likely not as Ginny knew it, since her parents had bought the house after getting married and added onto it as they had more children. It was most likely just a quaint little place in the middle of nowhere, not crooked or leaning or anything. It made her sad to think about.

Her thoughts shifted toward Tom and what he might be doing. Had he arrived at the orphanage yet? Was he miserable and unhappy, crammed in a little room alone? Ginny frowned, hoping that he would be able to emancipate himself from them. Perhaps, Ginny would be able to weasel more information from him about his plans. 

She wondered what Tom would do when he discovered Dumbledore had killed his pet in the Chamber of Secrets. Ginny was certain that her boyfriend would be livid, but would he suspect Dumbledore of committing the killing? Perhaps, since the two men despised one another and often held suspicions toward each other. 

But, could Dumbledore kill the creature? The wise wizard had seemed very confident in his ability to do so, but Ginny couldn’t help but be wary. The Basilisk was humongous. It nearly killed Harry, though Harry had only been a twelve year old at the time. Dumbledore was older and far more experienced. Hopefully, there would be no repercussions for all of this. The demise of the Basilisk would be an excellent bonus to Ginny’s mission in the past.

Ginny wondered what would change in her time if all went according to plan. Would Harry’s parents live? Would there even be a prophecy that would put their family at risk if Ginny changed things in the past? If Voldemort didn’t exist, so many lives would be spared. Harry deserved a family, her mum deserved living brothers, and so did many others. Would the Slytherins of the future be more approachable? It would be nice for there to be more House unity. 

But, what did that mean for Ginny? She would have to watch her friends and family grow up without memory of her. Ginny always thought she would eventually end up with Harry, once everything had been saved. Of course, that hadn’t been the case. There hadn’t been any saving, just death and destruction and loss. There was no happy ending for her in the future she’d abandoned. She would have to make do here, even if it wasn’t what she wanted.

Instead of Hermione, Luna, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and everyone else she had left behind, she had Nella, Ros, Abraxas, Rebecca, and Schala. They were good people, but not the same as those she had left behind. Instead of Harry, the boy she had loved for so very long, Ginny had Tom. Tom was the opposite of Harry in almost every way. But, there was a big part of Ginny that admired and cared for Tom far more than she should. He was graceful and old-fashioned, whereas Harry was a bit more awkward and ordinary. 

It was harder to imagine a future with Tom than with Harry. She’d tried a few times. The idea of Tom Riddle having any sort of stereotypical settled-down sort of life was comical. Ginny struggled to picture him around children. Harry, on the other hand, was one she could have seen with babes and could easily envision how delighted he would be to be a father. His green eyes would have been alight with wonder and love. Tom? He would be cool, distant, and uneasy. Was there even the possibility of a loving life with the man? Ginny wanted it, despite the futility.

It would have been far easier for her to pursue someone like Abraxas Malfoy. He was handsome and kind, a far cry from the ilk he bore in the future. A life with him would have been easier. So much easier than Tom Riddle. 

But, no, Ginny did not  _ do _ simple things. She had made her bed and now she would lie in it. Sitting up, Ginny peered out the window and down into the streets of Diagon Alley. This was her home now. She had to make the best of it in this era, whether Ginny wanted to or not. Besides, Tom had agreed to potentially live with her once they finished school. That was something to look forward to and could assist in Ginny’s task.

After sending off a short letter to Tom inquire about his escape from the orphanage, Ginny changed her clothes and headed off into the small wizarding village. She did not go far, but looked around at the changes within the vicinity of the Leaky Cauldron. When she had come previously with Dumbledore, her thoughts had been much more chaotic. Ginny had not paid much attention to her surroundings and what was going on. She admired the familiar brick buildings and cobblestone roads, she took in the names of shops she had been into dozens of times in the 1990s. 

Ginny purchased some roasted chestnuts from a street vendor before turning around to head back to the Leaky Cauldron. She would explore more with Tom or Nella or any of the others that came to visit her in Diagon Alley. Ginny would be invited to the homes of some of her friends as well, which was a bit nerve wracking for her. She already despised the overly-elitist attitude of some of the Slytherins, she couldn’t imagine how their families behaved. Abraxas had told her all about his father and just recalling those stories made Ginny’s blood boil. He was likely to be a dreadful person to meet, but Ginny would be on her best behavior for the sake of Abraxas and his sister. 

Nella’s family would be more tolerable, but Ros’s might be rough. They sounded strict and hard on their only daughter. There would be others who would want to include her in visits or get-togethers over the summer. She could see the meetings being more formal and stuffy than she was used to, but Ginny would do her best to fit in. At the very least, her faux backstory gave her an excuse if she behaved awkwardly. 

Ginny greeted Geraldine and Pol cheerfully, confirming with Geraldine that she’d had a nice walk around the area. The kindly woman reminded Ginny that the supper menu would be available shortly, recommending a few dishes to her. Ginny promised to be down to eat, wondering if she could take a meal to her room instead of eating alone in the diner area. She opted not to request that, knowing that it would be in Ginny’s best interest to listen and observe the people of 1944.


	21. Chapter Twenty

It was Friday and there was still no word from Tom. Ginny was doing her best not to worry about it, trying to keep busy with the goings on at the Leaky Cauldron. She had heard from both Ros and Nella already and was happy to have people to write to.

Abraxas had come to see her that Friday, surprising her down in the pub while Ginny was chatting with Pol, and was leading her to his favourite ice cream shop. Ginny thought again about what might be happening with Tom. She hoped he was not going to be stuck at the orphanage for the whole summer. Maybe he had not replied because it was difficult to hide from the Muggles. Ginny wondered if she had made a mistake sending an owl there.

“Are you alive in there?” Abraxas jostled her from her thoughts, an exasperated look on his handsome face. “Do you still want to get ice cream?”

“Of course,” Ginny smiled, trying to shake the annoying, lingering worries from her head. “Sorry, Abraxas, just thinking too much.” 

Abraxas looked a bit disappointed as he held the door open to Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour open for Ginny, “Do you want to talk about it? Is it about Riddle?”

Ginny entered and thanked him. She paused in the entrance, taking in the familiar locale. It looked exactly the same, even down to the decor and seating. Resisting the urge to grin, Ginny turned to Abraxas and did her best to pretend it was her first time visiting, “It’s nothing. This place looks great. What do you recommend?”

The blonde boy began listing off flavours to her, giving her a detailed report on what each of them tasted like. It made Ginny smile listening to him, but it also reminded her of her brother George. He’d had a great sweet tooth and was one of the few things that differentiated him from Fred. Fred preferred savory, while George preferred sweet. Ginny pushed thoughts of her brothers away and listened to Abraxas go on excitedly about sweets. 

“I’ll try the vanilla raspberry swirl,” Ginny answered, fumbling with her purse to get out her coins.

“No, it’s on me,” Abraxas told her. “I asked you out for ice cream, it’s only fair of me to pay for it. Besides, it’s your first trip.”

Ginny bit her lip, not wanting to make anything weird between them by acting like it was a date, “Abraxas, I can--”

He interrupted her, “I know you can pay for yourself. It’s not a date or anything, I’m just treating a friend to ice cream. Nothing weird about it. Riddle can’t be upset with me for making sure you get to try Fortescue’s ice cream.” 

Ginny sort of doubted that, but reluctantly agreed and fastened her purse back up as Abraxas ordered for the both of them. She secured an empty table while he waited for their scoops. Once again, she was grateful for Abraxas’ friendship and his understanding. It didn’t feel good when someone you liked was with someone else. Ginny knew that far too well. There had been so many times her heart had throbbed painfully while Harry hung around her house, when he hadn’t thought twice about her being anything more than Ron’s little sister. 

“Here you go, madame,” Abraxas set the treat down in front of her, a twinkle in his eye.

“Mmmm,” Ginny’s mouth watered at her favourite ice cream. Her eyebrows rose at the sight of the green and white concoction in Abraxas’ cup, “What did you get?”

“It’s called the Witch’s Brew.”

“What the hell is that?”

Abraxas laughed and put a scoop of the strange ice cream in his mouth, “Don’t laugh at me. It’s mint and marshmallows.”

Ginny snorted before she took a bite of her own ice cream, “Sorry, that’s the last thing I’d have expected you to get.”

“I almost got the bubblegum one,” Abraxas admitted sheepishly. “I know they’re flavours for children, but I still like them. My father thinks I ought to grow up already.”

She scowled at the mention of his father, “Well, your father is a real arse. Who cares what he thinks?”

“I wish I didn’t care,” Abraxas replied sadly.

The two teenagers ate their ice cream slowly, talking about the upcoming school year and different events that would take place during the summer. Abraxas’ parents were still planning some sort of Pureblood shindig for July, which Abraxas had promised to let Ginny know of right away. They would both be attending Yaxley’s birthday dinner at the end of June, which Abraxas had warned Ginny about. Apparently, Lycurgus’ parents were both a bit on the nutty side. Ginny had chuckled as Abraxas relayed stories about the Yaxley’s having a screaming match over how much salt to put on potatoes. 

After ice cream, Abraxas took her to the broomshop, where they both admired the latest models. They were  _ nothing _ compared to the brooms Ginny was used to, but she expressed genuine fascination regardless. The Cleansweep 5 was the hottest model available at the moment, which was what Ginny was considering buying to try out for the team during the next school year. Abraxas was stoked for Ginny to try out, promising to give her a fair shot if he got Captain (which he expected to get). 

They spent far too much time in the broom shop before moving on, Ginny swearing to return and purchase the broom soon. It was so easy to chat with Abraxas as he was so welcoming and willing to discuss anything. Ginny was able to wander around Diagon with him with the time passing quickly, far more quickly than she had noticed.

“I’m going to have to head home soon,” Abraxas told her as they started walking back toward the Leaky Cauldron. “My mum wants me back for supper.”

“Of course,” Ginny agreed. She glanced up the sky, noting the sun starting to make its way down. “Thanks for hanging out with me today. It was loads of fun.”

Abraxas smiled at her, his handsome face lighting up, “I had a good time. We should do this again, if you want to anyway.”

“I do,” Ginny told him fondly. “I should have time. Tom plans on working a bit during the summer when he gets here. I haven’t heard from him yet though.”

“Really?” Abraxas spoke slowly. They had been avoiding the topic of Tom Riddle, which had been perfectly fine with both parties. “I would have thought he would write to you every day or something.”

Ginny laughed and shook her head, smoothing down her gray dress, “No, he hasn’t written at all actually. I hope he’s alright. He’s hoping to stay at Leaky too this summer.”

“With you?” Abraxas looked shocked momentarily, nearly stopping his tracks. 

She turned to face him as he caught back up to her, “Not with me, no. I offered, but he said it would make people talk about us.”

“It most certainly would,” he said seriously, stopping just outside the Leaky Cauldron. The two both stepped to the side of the entrance so they could continue to speak without being in the way. “You would be considered a, er, a whore if you did something like that.”

She nearly laughed aloud, but knew that Abraxas was being serious. That sort of thing was still prevalent in this day and age. It was laughable, honestly. Ginny gave Abraxas a sympathetic look, “I can’t say that would bother me. But, I understand. Tom filled me in on protocol for this sort of thing.”

“That’s good of him I suppose,” Abraxas murmured, a frown filling his face. He stuck his hands into the pocket of his pin-stripe slacks. “I wouldn’t put it past Riddle to make a tramp of you.”

“Abraxas,” Ginny scolded, putting her hands on her hips. “He is quite gentlemanly, actually.” 

“Yeah, but he’s not like most of us.”

She scowled at him, “He’s plenty like the lot of you. Obsessed with blood purity and all of that other rubbish. He would never shame me, I assure you.”

Abraxas opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He took a deep breath before asking in a low, dejected tone, “Has he spoken to you about his intent to wed you?”

Ginny gaped, “No, not at all.”

The blonde made a face and stared across the street, “He ought to do so. The length of your courtship will have people questioning this soon. Is that something you think about? Are you waiting for him to ask you?”

She shook her head, feeling an uneasy feeling crawl up her arms like spiders, “I’m not waiting for anything. I’m just living, Abraxas.”

“I know you’re not aware of how things typically work among Purebloods,” Abraxas spoke slowly and cautiously, not wanting to upset Ginny. “Honestly, even the Halfbloods sort of work like us sometimes. The wizarding world is a bit old-fashioned compared to the Muggle world, I’ve heard. So, the Muggleborns will date around and that sort of thing. But, we  _ don’t. _ There is an unsaid commitment when you court someone. You just happen to be an orphan, which forgoes the arrangement part of it. Some of us are starting to get a say in our arrangement, but it’s still pretty old fashioned. My mum is set on betrothing me this summer. I bet loads of our classmates will be engaged by the start of the year. It used to be much worse though. My grandmother was betrothed at only three years old.”

Taking a minute to compose herself and absorb the information, Ginny steeled herself for a fight, “That’s how you all work, but not I. If we end up married, so be it. I’ve no expectations.”

“Are you saying that because you don’t think Riddle wants to be with you long term?”

She narrowed her eyes at the taller boy, “No, I’m not. Besides, he did say he would consider getting a flat with me after school, so that must say something about his intentions, no?”

“Unless he weds you, he would just be making a tramp of you,” Abraxas told her, not backing down. He seemed to pity Ginny. There was a desperation in his eyes, wishing for her to see reason. Perhaps, wishing she would choose him over Riddle. “Ginny, I’m not trying to upset you. I just want you to know what the world is going to see when they look at you. You are an eligible and beautiful young woman, hailing from a Pure family. They will see you with someone like Tom Riddle and wonder what happened.”

“They will figure out that I make my own choices,” Ginny said slowly, fists clenched at her sides.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Abraxas murmured, reaching out to take one of her hands. “You are a great girl, Ginny.”

Ginny snatched her hand back, “I appreciate the warnings, but I am capable of making my own decisions and living my life. So be it, if people judge me or look down upon me. I’m not going to mold myself into someone I’m not just because I’m not as familiar with the world as everyone else. Please trust me, Abraxas. I’m going to be fine with whatever I choose to do.”

“I know you will, you’re strong,” Abraxas smiled crookedly. “I just worry about you. Some Pureblood can make life hell for people. I have seen it happen.”

“Thank you for caring,” she remarked earnestly. “Are you happy, Abraxas? Are you going to be content with whatever your parents arrange for you? I think you should be worrying about yourself more than me. I’m going to be fine regardless of what happens. But, I get the impression you don’t want your mum to pick your wife for you.”

Abraxas stared at her, pale eyes dejected and torn, “No, of course I don’t.”

“Then why do you go along with it?”

“I...” Abraxas trailed off, seeming confused and disoriented for a minute. He glanced around them, as if he expected his parents to pop out of thin air and scold him. “I’m not brave enough to defy them, I guess. I could tell my mum no if she proposed something awful, but... I don’t know, Ginny. My father would be fuming.”

She stepped forward and hugged him quickly, “Oh Abraxas. You are always free to live your own life. You can say no. I’m here for you if you do, and if you don’t. Just, be happy with your choices, alright?”

“I’ll try,” he shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. “Next time, we’ll make sure you get that broom, yeah?”

“Definitely,” she grinned, feeling excited over the prospect. “I’ll stop by Gringotts in advance next time. I ought to do a little research, but that one seems the best. Have a good evening, Abraxas. Thank you again for spending the day with me. I had loads of fun today.”

They hugged again briefly before Abraxas headed toward the floo he had taken in Knockturn Alley. She turned and went inside the pub, waving a quick hello to Pol before hurrying up the stairs. Ginny was feeling a bit uncomfortable about the conversation with Abraxas. It was true that she cared little what people thought of her. No matter what was expected of her in this era, Ginny wasn’t going to marry herself off or conform to the Pureblood antics if she didn’t want to do so. There were more important things in her cauldron then wondering about her lack of impending nuptials. 

Once inside her room, Ginny flung the light sweater off and onto the floor. Sorcha had been in to clean up while Ginny had been out, leaving fresh towels on the bed and a pot of tea charmed to stay warm on the little table by the window. She noted a sealed envelope beside the pot and curiously, strode over to it. Ginny took a seat and poured herself a cup as she flipped the envelope over.

Her name in Tom’s impeccable handwriting stared at her from the front of the envelope. A confusing feeling of both dread and intrigue passed over her. There was still a foreboding that dwelled within her whenever she saw his tidy script. It brought back memories of her beloved diary, no matter how hard she tried to push those thoughts aside. Ginny quickly unsealed the letter and began to read.

_ Dearest Ginevra, _

_ Many apologies for the late reply to your correspondence. It has been a more difficult task that I had originally anticipated to request leave from the orphanage. Alas, the deed is done and I will be in Diagon Alley very shortly.  _

_ I hope your stay has been pleasant thus far.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Tom _

The formality of the letter made her laugh, but she was glad to hear he would be in Diagon Alley with her soon enough. She had questions for him and wanted to spend more time with the boy. The promise she made Dumbledore was often at the forefront of her mind and Ginny did not intend to let the man down. When Ginny returned to school in September, she had every intention of marching up to the professor and telling him all about the Horcruxes and relaying her confidence in the relationship she’d built with Tom Riddle. 

Determined, Ginny finished her tea and began reading a Quidditch journal she picked up while out with Abraxas. She would make everything work, somehow.

  
  


She awoke the next morning to light tapping on her door. Disgruntled, Ginny called out a request to wait a moment and struggled to detangle herself from the dark blankets. Expecting Sorcha, Ginny yanked open the door to allow the maid in, but was surprised to see Tom standing there. 

He was dressed in a pair of dark slacks, a deep red button-up with a gray vest over it. There was the recognizable sign of patched seams on the vest, something Ginny had once been familiar with as well. He was smiling bemusedly as he took in the disheveled appearance of his girlfriend.

“Good morning,” her boyfriend said politely. “Would you like to get dressed and ready and I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast?”

She nodded sleepily, “Tom! Yeah, sure, I’ll be a few minutes.” She gave him a wave and shut the door, groaning at him seeing her in a completely wretched state.

Ginny hurried to the bathroom to brush her teeth, wash her face, and tame the mane that had grown tangled in the night. Once satisfied, she rifled through her drawers of clothing that she was growing used to and pulled out a navy blue dress. She slipped on a pair of flat mary jane shoes and a light, pale gray cloak. A once-over in the mirror told her that she looked sufficient enough to meet her boyfriend. Ginny snagged her purse on the way out and headed down the stairs.

Tom was perched in the far corner, sipping from a canary yellow tea cup and reading the Prophet. Wondering if he had arrived in the night or something, Ginny strode over to him and sat down across from him at the little table. 

“When did you get here?” Ginny asked curiously, slipping her bag and cloak onto the back of the chair. “I thought you might still be a few days out.”

“This morning,” Tom set down the paper and began to pour Ginny a cup of tea. “The woman at the bar told me your room number once I mentioned that I was your boyfriend.”

Ginny glanced over her shoulder at Geraldine, who was sorting through some paperwork up front. Taking the cup from her boyfriend, Ginny smiled, “That’s very sweet of her. I’m glad to see you.”

“And I, you,” Tom replied with a slight smile of his own. “I will start working here tomorrow. Miss Pragg will have me assisting in the kitchens.”

“Oh, that’s great, so everything’s all set then?” Ginny asked, sipping her tea. “What happened at the orphanage?”

His jaw clenched as Tom set down his cup and folded his hands on the table, “They fought me on my being an adult, at first. But then the Madame realized how much she would like me out of there and relented. I agreed to sign paperwork stating I would not go back on my word and the like. Once it was notarized by an official, I was free to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Ginny spoke, reaching out to take one of his hands. She rubbed circles against the pale skin of Tom’s palm, “It worked out at least. You’re here and you are free.”

He relaxed very slightly, “That I am. The rest of my life is mine now. It is a good feeling. I was thinking, since I have the day available, that we could take a stroll through Diagon Alley together. There isn’t much we can do until I have started working, but I could at least show you some of my favourite places to visit.”

“That would be lovely,” Ginny smiled brightly. “I’ve wandered around a bit, but I would love the Tom Riddle specialty tour.”

“I assure it’s nothing exciting,” Tom spoke in a quiet voice. “I’m a rather dull man, Ginevra. Bookstores, apothecaries, or antique shops, and the like. I frequently stop at those places.”

Ginny shook her head, though honestly those places were not her favourites, “I’d be happy to see what you like to look at and look for. We can windowshop until we drop today.”

“Wonderful,” Tom replied, but without an ounce of pleasure. “Lets have breakfast and we can set out together.”

After a quick meal, the couple set out into the wizarding area, chatting amicably about what they wanted to look at. Tom had a handful of ideas for places to show her. He seemed to have explored much of what the area could offer. The little tidbits of information he intermittently interjected reminded Ginny so much of Hermione. Her bookworm of a best mate in the future had also read everything there was to offer on wizarding locale. Ginny had heard the factoids countless times in her life, but listened to Tom prattle away regardless. Her boyfriend seemed to know a few that Hermione didn’t, or at least, Ginny couldn’t remember Hermione ever telling her about them.

Tom turned down the lane that led into Knockturn Alley, somewhere Ginny had never been permitted to go. It did not seem as sketchy as her mother once painted it to be. Nowhere did Ginny see unsettling witches who looked ready to snatch little girls. If nothing else, the people in Knockturn Alley seemed to be walking with a purpose. They knew what they were there for and wanted to leave the place of underground dealings as soon as they finished. 

"I get the impression this isn't the Ministry's favourite place," Ginny remarked, giving her boyfriend a perplexed gaze. "I'm fairly positive it's illegal to sell objects with protection spells that aren't branded in approval by the Ministry."

"Yes, well, not all of Knockturn Alley is like that," Tom sniffed disdainfully at the street vendor Ginny pointed out. "There are some very fascinating places here."

Ginny looked around, not knowing what many of the buildings were. They were not as well-kempt here. She eyed a man warily, who was carrying something that looked like it might be the hand of a Merman. She raised an eyebrow, "Uh-huh."

"Look, this place is a barbershop," Tom told her, pointing to a small place with a pair of gold scissors that were charmed to open and close hung from the door. "Nothing sinister about that. Over here we have an Apothecary. Beside that building is a daycare center for the poorer folk."

She followed his finger curiously, taking in the locations he pointed out to her. They did seem fairly ordinary, if not a bit rundown. Maybe, the pisspoor reputation was all just a misunderstanding. Ginny eyed a small building with candles and a pentagram sparkling in blood red in the window, "What's that one?"

"A prophesier," Tom explained in disgust. "She is a sham, not sure why anyone allows her to stay here."

"Have you seen her then?" Ginny asked curiously. She wondered if the woman had told Tom something false that made him feel so strongly against it.

Tom scoffed, "Of course not. It would be a waste of my time seeing that phony of a Seer."

Ginny posed her next question carefully, "So, you don't believe in that sort of thing?"

"Of course not," he replied, side-eyeing her. "Are you going to run in there and have her look in her crystal ball? Should I be worried about your wonderings of what lies in your future?"

Ginny shook her head, "No. I'm not interested." She filed his response away for later. It was curious that Tom was not interested in prophecies or knowing the future at this time. He was obsessed with prophecy later, when he and Harry were bound together by one.

Tom took her hand, pulling her close and scowling at a wizard who was eyeing Ginny in a way neither of them liked, "Come, let's go in here. It's an odds and ends shop that I enjoy visiting." 

She followed him into Borgin and Burkes, a place Ginny knew of. Hesitantly, she followed Tom inside the shop and immediately wrinkled her nose. The place was dusty and stale. Cherry wood shelves stood along the sides of the walls, displaying a wide array of items. Ginny's eyes caught a few things that alarmed her, such as skeletal hands and bottles filled with murky, black liquid. The cash register stood in the far corner, where a pale, squat man was squinting at the two of them. 

"Good Day, Mister Burke," Tom called out in his polite tone. He stepped forward toward the man, still clutching Ginny's hand tightly in his.

"Ah, Tom, that is ye. I thought I recognized the face," the man had a smoker's voice that sounded as if his larynx had been drug over gravel a few times. "I left me eyeglasses upstairs, ye see. Who's the lass with ye? Engaged, are ye? My sonny just got himself engaged last month, but the bird is a sight for sore eyes. Ah, well. She is Pureblood at least." He chucked, but it soon turned into a wet cough.

Ginny resisted the urge to hiss at the man in fury. She bit her tongue hard and trailed behind Tom as they approached Burke, stopping a foot away from the register. It took a lot of effort for Ginny not to remark on the man not being a great sight to behold either. 

Tom put an arm around her shoulders protectively, "This is Ginevra Pyrites. We are seeing one another."

"My word," the squat man whispered, raking his beady blue eyes up and down Ginny's form without shame. "Ye mum was a classmate of mine. Nice girl, she was. Sorry for the loss of 'er. Nice pickins, Tom, my boy. You ought to hunker the lass down before another man takes that delightful flower from under ye nose."

"I shall keep that in mind," Tom replied coolly, leveling the man a disapproving stare. He squeezed Ginny's hand, knowing that she was raging internally over the altercation. "We are just browsing today. Anything new in stock?"

"Not since last month. The Ministry has been making shite a real hassle with their changes in trade from other countries," Mr. Burke scowled and rubbed at his bristly chin. "But ye can look around if ye want. Got some more shadow powder from a fellow from Tibet a few months back. Think we got a few packets left. You know what shadow powder is, sonny?"

Tom nodded curtly, “I do. Ginevra and I will take a look around and be on our way.”

“Aye, g’day sonny,” Mr. Burke nodded his head, though his eyes skimmed over Ginny again appreciatively.

It made her skin crawl knowing the disgusting man was looking at her like that. The action seemed to bother Tom as well, who continued to keep her close to his side as he examined the wares. He looked at the handful of scrolls tucked in the corner of a shelf and a few dusty tomes. After a few minutes, Tom found himself unimpressed with the offerings of the place and the couple took their leave.

“I think that man is revolting,” Ginny announced as they stepped outside into the warm summer air. “Did you hear the way he talked about his soon-to-be daughter-in-law? Ugh, and he kept looking at me like I was a piece of meat he wanted to bite into. Gross.”

Tom nodded and scowled at the brick road, “Burke is not my favourite person, that’s for certain. His business partner is much more tolerable. The store they operate is an interesting one. A wide variety of magical artefacts pass through their hands. At times, they don’t even know what they have.”

There was something about the way Tom said the last line that made Ginny think there was more to it. For a moment, she considered questioning him, but changed her mind when he began leading her to another location. This one had a much more outwardly sinister appearance than Borgin and Burkes; a shrunken head hung from the doorway and the window blinds were closed. A small sign read, ‘ _ Ye Olde Curiosity Shop - The Dark Friends Secret.” _

“ _ Really _ ?” Ginny started to reprimand him, but was nearly knocked off of her feet by a heavyset individual coming out of the building as they attempted to enter. She nearly toppled down the steps, but Tom caught her before Ginny could hit the ground.

“Oh, I beg your pardon!” a proper, posh voice remarked brightly. “I didn’t see the two of you there. Hmm, who might you be?”

Ginny looked up and peered into a vaguely familiar face. Dark hair, thick eyebrows, and a round face. The judgment on his face as he scowled at Tom looked strikingly like Walburga Black and that caused Ginny to realize who the man must be. 

Mr. Black appraised Ginny, taking in her appearance and the hand around her waist that belonged to Tom Riddle. The man did not hide the snarl on his face as he looked down upon Ginny with disappointment, “Ah, yes, you must be the Pyrites girl. I have heard much about you. Look like a Weasley, with that unfortunate hair.”

“Yes,” she replied shortly, leveling her gaze at the bigger man. 

“Pollux Black,” he extended a hand to Ginny, shaking hers briefly before giving Tom Riddle another disdainful look. “What a shame you’ve lumped yourself in with the lesser bloods. You ought to have been wed into our family, I reckon. I ought to have thought ahead when it was revealed you survived the tragedy. Well, you could still come to your senses, I suppose. If you’ve not been tainted by the likes of him.”

Riddle stiffened beside her and she could feel the fury emanating from him. She squeezed his hand before squaring up against the much larger man, “My senses are fully intact thank you. Tom is an exceptional wizard, likely more so than you and any of your children. I’m flattered to have captured his eye. You and your daughter both disgust me.” She stepped around the man and entered the shop, tugging Tom behind her. 

She could hear Pollux spluttering and muttering to himself, but didn’t pay attention to what the man was saying. He was as foul as his daughter and not someone Ginny wanted to associate with. She was livid that the man would dare to insult her and her boyfriend in one go. A large part of her wanted to storm back out the door and continue giving Pollux Black another piece of her mind. The silent storm that she called her boyfriend kept her grounded at the entrance of the store. 

“Tom?” Ginny said softly. “Did you want to leave? We can head back to Leaky if you want.”

“No, thank you,” he said stiffly and began to peer at items in the shop. 

His heart wasn’t into it, Ginny could tell. The altercation with Pollux Black had gotten to him. She didn’t know how to quell the flames brewing within him. He was angry, he was upset, and Ginny hated it. How many times would she need to reassure him that he was worthy? The blindness of the Purebloods was infuriating. They were so caught up in incestuous relationships that they couldn’t see what else lie before them. Tom was truly an remarkable wizard. Smarter than just about anyone else she knew. Ginny thought it likely that he could out-duel even adults at this point. 

She trailed behind him, trying to engage him in light conversation about the shop. It’s business in the Dark Arts was less than thrilling to her, but she attempted to show some interest. If nothing else, Ginny could try to find out more about Tom’s plans. 

Once Tom finished perusing the shop, the two had a quiet and solemn return to the Leaky Cauldron. Tom excused himself to his room, likely to go and brood. Ginny let him go, wondering if he would be difficult to handle for a while. She cursed Pollux Black and his entire family as she readied herself a warm bath.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

Tom busied himself with work and avoiding Ginny over the next couple of weeks, only sparing time for his girlfriend for supper and breakfast. It was grating on her nerves, which was something she finally divulged to Nella one afternoon as they walked through Diagon Alley.

They were out shopping together for new outfits. Yaxley’s birthday party was upcoming the following weekend and Nella wanted to pick out a new dress. There had been no news of any upcoming nuptials for the girl, but Ornella was quite confident the proposal would be soon.

“My mum keeps hinting at it, I know it’s coming!” Ornella gushed as the two girls hurried to Madame Malkins together. 

“I’m excited for you,” Ginny told her friend earnestly, despite not understanding the era’s need to be engaged before they were truly adults. “You must write me first thing when you find out!”

Ornella giggled profusely, covering her mouth with her hand, “Oh, I might floo straight to Leaky when I find out. You might have made a mistake telling me your room number.”

“Bollocks,” Ginny remarked sarcastically, but chuckled in reply. 

“Enough about me,” Nella gave her friend a knowing look. “How is it at Leaky with Riddle? You two must see each other loads.” She gave Ginny a starstruck gaze.

Ginny made a face, feeling disheartened over how things had degraded once again with her boyfriend. He retreated deep into his shell again, something he promised Ginny he would avoid. Sighing, she shook her head, “I’m not sure what’s going on, Nella.”

“Oh no!” her friend gasped, stopping just before they reached the clothing shop. “Did you two split up? Why didn’t you tell me?! Oh, Ginny!”

The redhead shook her head, holding up her hands in protest, “No, I don’t think we have. He’s just being difficult, as usual.” She explained what had happened in Knockturn Alley, detailing the conversation that had taken place with Pollux Black. Ginny even divulged a few vague incidents, like Tom’s constant remarks about refusing to taint Ginny with his impure blood and avoiding discussing a future with her. She left out any implications that Tom might be involved with the Dark Arts, or anything that could get him into serious trouble.

Ornella bit her lip as she listened to Ginny. She fiddled with her long, blonde hair, looking downright depressed for her friend, “You ought to have talked to me months ago, Ginny. I’m so sorry. I’ve not been there for you.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s my own fault for not confiding in you,” Ginny sighed and leaned against the wall of the clothing shop. “I haven’t the slightest idea how to make him see that I’m not going to just realize I need a Pureblood boyfriend instead and leave him. He doubts my loyalty. He doubts himself. It’s aggravating. I’ve all but thrown myself at him, Nella.”

“Oh goodness,” her friend flushed and leaned in to whisper. “You’ve slept with him?! I thought you hadn’t.”

Ginny shook her head, “No, not yet. He won’t let me get close enough. What am I to do, Nella?”

“Sit him down and make him listen,” Nella instructed thoughtfully, taking Ginny’s arm and leading her into Madam Malkins. Both girls waved to the kind lady taking measurements on the far end of the shop. 

“I feel like I’ve done that a dozen times,” Ginny groaned. “I love him, Nella, and he won’t believe me.” 

Nella led the way toward the racks of dresses and began examining them all, making faces at the ones she seemed awful, “You see where he is coming from though, yes? He’s not Pureblooded and he’s been looked down upon for it his entire time at Hogwarts. Riddle’s got a shot with an amazing Pureblood girl and everyone’s judging him for it. Some are envious or outright angry, which likely bothers him. You chose him out of all of the other eligible bachelors. It’s too good to be true, you know? There is likely a lot of pressure on him to ask you for your hand in marriage. It’s what proper men are supposed to do with a Pureblood lady, after all. I guarantee he’s thought about it, especially with you both being of age. I imagine Tom’s very torn about it all. There are many who think he doesn’t deserve you and think he’s a lesser being, just like Pollux Black stated. It’s got to be really upsetting to constantly be battling that sort of talk.”

“You are right,” Ginny spoke slowly, pulling a black dress off the rack and frowning at it. She really was not in the mood to shop. “I understand that. I’m not asking for a proposal right now though.”

“You’re not,” Nella said mildly, holding up a lavender dress to herself and looking in the full-length mirror nearby. Nodding, she draped the article over her shoulder. “But others are.”

“I hate this bloody society,” Ginny grumbled, shaking her head at the deep red dress Nella was offering her. “That’s atrocious, Nella.”

“You’re right, it is,” Nella replied absently, stuffing the garment back onto the rack. “Look, Ginny. I think you two just need to talk it out and all will be alright. I guarantee the pressure is weighing on him. Oh, look at this dress! You would look very smart in this one.” The blonde held up a navy blue robe dress that would accentuate Ginny’s curves.

Ginny shrugged and held onto the dress, “I am not sure how to alleviate the pressure.”

“You might not be able to,” Nella took a powder pink dress off the rack and added it to her pile, followed by a mint green skirt. “The both of you might just need to accept that.”

The redhead felt like screaming. This world was so stupidly absurd. She grumbled to herself as she sifted through the clothing with her friend. She and Nella chatted a bit more about the matter, but soon moved on to other things. Ginny could tell that Nella wanted to ask additional questions or play therapist some more. Ginny had enough to think about, but was grateful for Nella’s thoughtful remarks on the subject. 

Ginny ended up staying out later than she had anticipated with Nella. They had visited loads of stores and chatted for hours on end. Time flew by with her boisterous friend and the two ended the evening with dinner at a quaint restaurant around the corner from Gringotts. Nella wished her good luck with Tom before heading to the Gringotts floo. 

Geraldine greeted Ginny fondly as the redhead arrived back at Leaky and informed her that Tom had retired for the night. Frustrated, Ginny decided to leave him be and went to put away her new purchases. Due to Ornella’s influence, Ginny ended up with three new dresses, several blouses and skirts, and some new scarves. Shaking her head, Ginny folded the new garments and tucked them into the drawers of her room.

Once finished, Ginny decided to run herself a bubble bath. The quiet, soothing space would likely relieve some of the tension building up and give her some time to consider how to handle Tom.

Many things crossed her mind as she relaxed in the warm water, letting the lavender scented bubbles cover her skin. Ginny needed to ask him about the Horcuxes and find out how many existed at this point. Hermione hadn’t told Ginny anything about destroying them, but she hoped Dumbledore would have an idea. How to broach the subject with Tom was a tricky puzzle she needed to figure out. She supposed it would help to make him less angry at everything. She would strive to avoid people like Pollux Black. Merlin, she abhorred the Black family. The girl pitied Sirius for having grown up under that roof. It was no wonder he had run away at fifteen. Ginny thought she might have done the same if Walburga were her mother. 

She wondered what kind of mother Ovaline Pyrites had been.

Had she been kind? Nurturing? Or, had the woman been resentful over her husband’s paranoia? Dumbledore mentioned he suspected Ovaline had been the one to reveal their location. Ginny imagined the woman must have harboured some hatred toward her husband for sheltering them all away. It was unfair and unfortunate that none of the Pyrites girls had gotten to experience life. Guilt gnawed at Ginny for using them the way she did.

Tired from the outing with Nella and the warm bath, Ginny yawned as she dressed herself in a white nightgown and brushed her hair. Her head swam with images of what she thought the Pyrites family looked like as she began to doze off.

  
  


_ Footsteps pounded all around her.  _

_ She tried not to scream as fire danced up the left side of the Burrow. Her mum was still in there. Ginny desperately wanted to save her, but something was keeping her frozen in place. Ginny struggled to move her toes in vain.  _

_ The Dark Mark appeared above the flames of the Burrow, green and bright and taunting. Tears trailed down her cheeks as she tried to move her body. Not even a finger twitched, no matter how hard Ginny willed herself to move.  _

_ Someone nearby cackled; high and cruel, completely void of care. _

_ She tried to move her head to see who it was who was laughing at her pain, to put a face to the person who had done this. She still couldn’t move. Ginny felt as if the tears would drown her as she was forced to watch her home burn and listen to her mother’s fading shrieks. _

_ A feminine voice whispered harshly into her ear, “You did this. You killed your mum.” _

Ginny awoke with a start, her eyes wet and heart beating wildly in her chest, feeling as if it were trying to burst right out of her. She couldn’t stop the sniffles that fought their way out of her. ‘ _ Mum _ ,’ Ginny thought to herself desperately. ‘ _ I need you, mum.’ _

Climbing out of bed, Ginny glanced up at the clock in the wall. Midnight exactly. She shivered and paced in front of the bed a moment before grabbing her room key and leaving.

Tom was also on the third floor, in Room 323. She hoped he would open the door for her, even if they were barely talking. Knocking lightly, Ginny bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited for him to answer.

Ginny was about to knock again when the door opened a crack. A bleary-eyed, yet still very handsome Tom Riddle peered down at her curiously, “Ginevra?”

“Can I come in?” Ginny asked, haphazardly wiping at her still moist face. “Please?”

Wordlessly, he held open the door for her. Ginny entered the dark room, eyes seeking the bed. She climbed in without asking and pulled the blankets around her without explanation. He looked down at her a moment, but she couldn’t really see his face clearly in the dark. Tom slowly joined her in bed, laying stiffly as far away from her as he could without falling out of the bed, “Has something happened?”

“Nightmare,” Ginny whispered, staring at his silhouette beside her in the bed. “About my family. I tried to save my mum but I...”

“It was just a dream,” Tom assured her quietly. “Are you alright?”

“I will be. I just didn’t want to be alone. I know you don’t want to talk to me, so I’m sorry for barging in like this,” Ginny said morosely, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

Tom sighed, “I do want to speak to you, Ginevra. Would you like to discuss the nightmare you had?”

“No,” Ginny closed her eyes for a moment. She scooted toward Tom, snuggling against his arm. After a moment, Tom lifted the arm and allowed Ginny to rest on his chest, holding her tight against him. She sighed in relief as her heart rate began to calm steadily. Sleep found her once more, and this time it was peaceful.

  
  


Tom was awake already when Ginny opened her eyes. Her head was still tucked into his chest. She stretched and sat up, turning to meet his gaze. His hair was disheveled, but Ginny found it cute. Tom seemed much more at ease than he was the last time she had seen him.

“Morning,” she smiled sweetly at him. “Thanks for letting me crash here. I really appreciate it.”

Tom sat up, running a hand through his messy hair, “It was no problem. I do not suggest making a habit of running to my room or you might find nasty rumours trailing you. I hope you are feeling better this morning?”

“The rumours don't scare me,” Ginny replied honestly. She touched his cheek, “I am feeling better, thank you.”

“Even after what Pollux Black said?”

“Yes,” she replied, letting her thumb caress the edge of his face. “I told you before that I didn’t care. I mean it, Tom. I have told you a hundred times, I don’t care what anyone else says.”

Tom pursed his lips, fists gripping the white sheets, “Half of them want me to marry you, while the other half want me dead for even looking twice at you. It makes me very angry, Ginevra. I want to hurt someone. I would have killed Black if you hadn’t been there.”

She shivered, staring into his eyes. He was speaking the truth. Ginny bit her lip, “Tom, please don’t. I know there must be a lot of pressure on you in regards to our relationship. I’m sorry for it. I don’t expect anything. I just want to be with you, okay? For as long as you’ll have me.”

He nodded once, still holding a death grip on the sheets, “I must get ready for work now. We can speak more later?”

“I’d love to,” Ginny replied, smiling. “I never want you to shut me out, Tom.”

She found herself on yet another upward slope with Tom, but kept her guard for when the next drop would be.

  
  


Neither Ginny or Tom enjoyed Yaxley’s birthday party that weekend. 

Too many nosy people pried into their love life, questioning Tom’s intentions with Ginny. Several of the adults made suggestions of how Ginny could marry into their families instead, offering sons or nephews. A man named Leonard King had actually gone so far as to ask if Ginny was still a virgin, as only someone innocent would be good enough for one of his five sons. She proceeded to tell him to bugger off and stomped off into another room, seething. If it hadn’t been for Mina Burke snagging her away, Ginny would have unleashed the Bat-Bogey hex on the man.

She was growing more and more agitated over the comments and quips about her lack of engagement or the pitying remarks about having no parents to set her straight. If Abraxas and Ros hadn’t rescued her, Ginny might have slapped Yaxley’s mother. Her rescuers led a distraught and vehemently swearing Ginny into the backyard, away from the meddlesome, Pureblood adults who saw Ginny as a prize and nothing more. She couldn’t help but relish in knowing they would all be quite disappointed if they ever knew that Ginevra Pyrites was actually a Weasley.

Most of the children her age congregated in Yaxley’s garden, loafing around the gazebo that stood in the middle. Likely, the whole lot of them were just as bored with the antics of the adults as Ginny was. Tom had also escaped the throng of questioning adults and was chatting with a few students who recently graduated while Ginny stuck with Nella, Ros, and Abraxas. 

Games were played, though Ginny found them quite silly. She had never played this Charades thing before, but it was definitely not a game she enjoyed. John Mulciber attempted to teach Ginny another game involving spinning in circles with a blindfold on and shooting a stunning spell, hoping to hit someone. Ginny declined trying that one. It seemed dangerous, as well as stupid. 

She made a point to corner Ros and interrogate the girl on how she was doing. The betrothal was clearly wearing on the girl; lines of stress formed on her forehead when Ginny pried. Ros admitted quietly to Ginny that she was worried about the wedding, but that her fiance was very kind and interested in getting to know her. Ginny was still worried, but felt better knowing that at least the man wasn’t a pig. Before Ginny was whisked away by Nella to dance, she made Roslyn swear to confide in her if she ever needed a friend. Ginny was sure to tell her firmly that there would be no judgment on Ginny’s end, no matter what Ros said. 

By the time Ginny and Tom managed to escape Yaxley’s party, Ginny was furious once more. As they made to exit the manor, Mulciber’s mother had actually propositioned Ginny for a marriage with her son right in front of both Tom and John. Poor John Mulciber had turned so very pink when his mum mentioned loudly how fond he was of Ginny and how pretty their children would be. Tom bristled silently while Ginny told the woman curtly that she was in a relationship with the bloke next to her and had no interest in any sort of relationship beyond friendship with her son. John looked like he would die of shame, mouthing apologies to Ginny from behind his mum’s back.

Ginny lost count of how many times she’d told people she was with Tom Riddle and was happy with him. It was far too many times for her liking. The sheer audacity of the Pureblood families appalled her. She joked to Tom on the way out that she would need to write ‘ _ Property of Tom Riddle _ ’ on her forehead before attending any other events.

Tom remained quietly enraged for the latter half of the event and Ginny was worried it would end in another episode of him avoiding her. His jaw clenched so tightly, she couldn’t help but wonder if he would hurt his mouth. Instead of keeping her at a distance, Tom clung to her hand even as they walked up to the third floor of the Leaky Cauldron.

“Want to keep me company for a bit?” Ginny suggested as she unlocked her room. She held the door open for her brooding boyfriend, who entered without reply.

As soon as the redhead shut and locked the door behind her, Tom’s lips assaulted her. 

Ginny squeaked in surprise as his teeth raked down her neck, before he bit down in the crook. His fingers gripped her waist, pulling her against him. Startled, Ginny noted the arousal prodding her. Where had this come from?

She was greeted by a low, throaty chuckle after vocalizing the question. Tom’s hands moved to cup her bottom and his eager lips brushed against her earlobe, “You have been telling everyone all evening that you are mine. Those  _ imbeciles _ questioned you, belittled you, insulted you... yet, you looked them in the eyes and stated that you were mine. Even when better offers were made for your future, you declined.”

“Was I wrong for doing that?” Ginny whispered huskily, reaching between their bodies to stroke his length through the fabric of his deep blue trousers.

“No,” he growled into her ear fiercely, making her heart skip a beat. “I want you. You have said that you do not care what the other Purebloods think of you, that you do not mind if I taint you with my lesser blood. You defend me and turn down betrothals with futures far better than I could ever hope to offer you. I want you, Ginevra.”

A gasping moan filled the air as his tongue danced up her ear. Her eyes closed and her hand gripped him harder. Ginny leaned her head back, exposing more of her neck to him. Tom nibbled and grazed her skin, leaving fire in his wake. Ginny’s hands fumbled with his belt, while he hastily unbuttoned her teal blouse. Articles of clothing were tossed unceremoniously into the floor.

Tom picked her up, laying her down on the bed. Ginny shimmied out of her skirt and stockings, laying in her undergarments before him. Tom was completely naked and she couldn’t help but admire the view. Tall, slender, and incredibly sexy with slightly mussed hair and hazel eyes alight with desire. Ginny sat up a moment to unhook her bra, while Tom clumsily removed her knickers. Both items were tossed aside carelessly.

His dark eyes drank in the sight of her fully exposed beneath him. The hungry look on his face made Ginny warm and the need for him began pooling in her abdomen. Slowly, Tom reached down and started touching her softly. She moaned quietly, eyes fluttering open and closed. He maintained a steady rhythm with his fingers until Ginny cried out for him. 

Lining himself at her entrance, Tom put a hand on her cheek. He stared into her brown eyes, allowing her one last chance to put an end to this. But Ginny merely grabbed her wand to cast the protection spell and steeled herself.

He pushed himself in slowly, a surprised noise of pleasure escaping from his lips. Ginny pulled him down to kiss her, spreading her legs further to encourage him. Once he was completely buried inside her, Tom kissed her again and gripped her hips firmly. He wasted no time finding a rhythm perfect for them. 

Tom was more rough than others Ginny had been with, but it was a good thing. She enjoyed the way Tom slammed into her, softly moaning with each needy thrust. She called out his name, gripping the sheets, the bedding, him, whatever she could touch as he fucked her hard into the mattress. The speed with which he rutted into her made Ginny’s pleasure build up quickly, arching her back as she came. His release was soon after, and he slid out from inside her, collapsing onto the bed beside Ginny.

“You are mine,” he whispered, taking her hand and caressing the palm. “ _ Mine _ .”

“Yours,” Ginny echoed breathlessly. “Completely yours.”


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

Tom was insatiable, Ginny had come to learn.

The morning after they’d had sex, Tom woke her up for another round and wanted her again after he finished work for the day. It was exhilarating, feeling so needed and attractive. Ginny needed to sneak around with other partners in her other life, finding hidden places within the school to do anything remotely sexual. Having their own space at the Leaky Cauldron meant Ginny and Tom could be with one another all day if they so chose to. Ginny was starting to think that if Tom could, he would bed her every hour. 

He was by far the most interesting partner she’d been with as of yet. Tom was more adventurous than Dean or Harry had been. Ginny didn’t think twice about it when Tom returned from work one evening and bent her over the desk in his room. He hadn’t complained when Ginny wanted to be on top, riding him hard until they were both exhausted. 

It was becoming commonplace for them to sleep together at night in one of their rooms. Ginny convinced Tom that she didn’t care what people thought of them. They were young adults, perfectly capable of making decisions and engaging in whatever sort of behavior they wanted. He agreed, but Ginny wondered if the sex had caused him to throw caution to the wind. He was perpetually hungry for her and she loved it.

By mid-July, Ginny persuaded him to share a room with her. They spent so much time together and slept together every night, it seemed silly to pay for two rooms. After a small argument, Tom reluctantly agreed, but made Ginny promise to allow him to cover his share. Geraldine said nothing, but smiled knowingly as she closed out Tom’s account and added his name onto Ginny’s room. 

One evening, the two were both in bed in their pajamas with the window open. It was warm, too warm. Ginny stretched out her legs, wishing for more of a breeze as she read the Quidditch magazine she picked up earlier that day. Tom sat crossed-legged beside her, pouring over a thick tome about dark magic. Ginny nagged at him over the subject material, to which Tom had remarked that he was merely curious and wanted to absorb as much knowledge as possible. She had been tempted to pry, but decided not to disturb the mood. They were both happy and there was still time to go digging into Tom’s Horcruxes.

Ginny flipped the page of her magazine. She had just finished reading a great piece about the start of the Holyhead Harpies which had included a brief interview with their current captain, Thalia Gorgonzola, which had been quite funny. She paused as she started to skim the list of “1944’s Top Quidditch Gear.” She cast a glance at her boyfriend, who was engrossed in his book. His back was ramrod straight as he sat pretzel style on the bed, eyes darting back and forth across the pages. She admired him, smiling at the way his mouth worked as Tom read over something interesting. Ginny observed as he periodically stretched his fingers or tilted his head in thought. He was so beautiful, so perfect. Her heart fluttered helplessly against the confines of her chest as Ginny realized how happy she was with him. 

Happy. With Tom Riddle. It was absolutely bizarre to admit, but it was true.

“You’re staring,” Tom remarked, glancing over at her before returning back to the massive book. “Is there something on my face?”

“Just admiring the view,” Ginny quipped cheerfully, sitting up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. “You’re so handsome. So sexy.” She nuzzled into his neck, tongue trailing up his jaw.

“Hm,” Tom set his book aside. “Again? I suppose I cannot say no...”

“You could,” Ginny smiled into his lips. “But you won’t.”

Tom pulled the girl into his lap, hands tugging the thin nightgown she wore over her head and tossing it onto the floor, “And you say I’m the insatiable one.”

A short time later, Ginny sighed as she lifted herself off of Tom. The escapades did nothing for how sweaty she felt, but at least she was satisfied. She kissed Tom’s forehead as she padded off to the bathroom to wash up. 

Upon her return, she found Tom standing at the window staring at a pair of owls that were perched on the sill. Ginny noted, and appreciated, that Tom had forgone a shirt and stood in only a pair of pajama pants. 

“You’ve got letters, Ginevra,” Tom announced, taking the items from the birds who hooted angrily at him before taking off into the night. “I think  _ this _ one’s from Greengrass,” he dangled a lavender envelope between his finger and thumb with disgust. 

“Oh!” Ginny remarked in excitement as she hurriedly threw her nightgown back on, cringing at how it clung to her skin. It was too bloody hot. She snatched the envelopes from Tom’s grasp, looking them over. “It’s awfully late for mail,” Ginny mused as she opened the one that they both knew was from Nella.

Tom watched as Ginny read the letter, raising an eyebrow when the redhead began to squeak in excitement. Bemused, Tom asked, “Is it the engagement?”

“Yes!” Ginny smiled, feeling completely happy for her friend despite the strangeness of arranged marriages. “We are both invited to the engagement party on the 1st of August. Do you think you will be able to attend?” 

Tom nodded once, “I am sure I can work something out with the landlords for time off.”

“I’ve barely even talked to Plunkett, but Nella likes him so I’m pleased for her,” Ginny explained as she read over the letter once more. “Honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t floo over here to tell me in person, no matter the hour.”

“She might have had a conniption fit if she did,” Tom remarked, glancing out the window. “I doubt Greengrass knows you and I are rooming together.”

“Oh bah,” Ginny waved a hand in dismissal. She set the letter down on the dresser, “I could care less about that. I can’t believe she’s getting married. We’re all so young still.”

Tom sat back down on the bed, pulling his book back onto his lap, “That sort of thing is very common still, Ginevra. Most of our Housemates will be engaged by the year’s end if they aren’t already.” He frowned down at the thick tome and opened it to the page he left on. 

“Hmm,” Ginny dismissed the subject and began to open the second envelope. Reading the contents, she wrinkled her nose. She hadn’t seen Abraxas since the ice cream date several weeks before and Ginny had nearly forgotten about the upcoming event being held at his house. It was scheduled for the following Saturday and though her boyfriend was invited, Ginny suspected Tom would want to skip out. She glanced over at her boyfriend, “Would you be upset if I went to a dinner at Abraxas’ manor next weekend?” 

“You are free to do as you please,” Tom spoke coldly, jaw clenching again.

Ginny sighed in frustration, “You’re invited too, but I know you don’t want to go. I know you dislike Abraxas, but he is my friend. And, he’s  _ only _ a friend. Remember,  _ you _ are the one I’m sleeping with out of wedlock.” She smirked, recalling Tom making such a comment recently. “He asked me to attend as a friend, not as a love interest or something. If it bothers you, we should discuss this. I want you to trust me.”

“I trust you,” Tom replied, not tearing his eyes from the book. “I do not trust others.”

She pursed her lips, “Tom--”

“You should attend his party alone though,” he interjected, leaning back against the headboard. “I won’t be upset if you go, I assure you.” 

Ginny put the letter from Abraxas down and marched over to the bed, hands on her hips as she glared at Tom, “I chose you, remember? Please, Tom. Don’t fret about Abraxas. I want you, I love you, I chose you. I’m yours.”

“I know,” Tom replied quietly. “I trust you, implicitly. You would never betray me.” His voice was hard and commanding, sending a chill down her neck. “I know you are mine.”

“Okay,” she replied, scowling down at him. “I will go to his event and I will probably hate it and want to hex all of the Pureblood arseholes to smithereens, but I’m going to go because Abraxas is my friend. And, if anyone brings up anything untoward that I disapprove of, I’m going to tell them the same thing I told them at Yaxley’s house, that  _ I am yours. _ ”

  
  


The next morning, Ginny tidied up the room while Tom worked in the pub. She had received all of their clean laundry back from Sorcha, the middle-aged and kindly Irish maid, and was working on folding their clothes. It felt strangely domestic handling both of their belongings and tucking them away into a dresser they shared. 

The chore reminded Ginny of her mum, who would often sing to herself as she folded the entire family’s clothes. Ginny didn’t know how Molly Weasley had done it. She was tired of the task by the time the pile was halfway finished, even with magic. Her chest ached thinking about her mum; a dull pain that never seemed to truly dissipate.

When the last few things were folded and stowed away in drawers, Ginny meandered to Tom’s side of the bed where he had piled books and scraps of parchment high on his nightstand. The leaning tower made her laugh, shaking her head at how much of a bookworm her boyfriend was. She didn’t press him too hard when it came to the things he researched about, knowing it was likely subject matter Ginny would disapprove of. Remaining curious and interested in his hobbies was something Ginny kept up with, hoping he might choose to confide in her more and more with each passing week.

So far, her luck had been working overtime. Tom confided in her a bit more, telling Ginny about the night he met his father and some of the awful things he had done to the other children at the orphanage. Ginny found it all disturbing, but listened and questioned him on the likelihood of using magic in a similar fashion on her or others. Tom promised he would not take such drastic measures again, unless need be. Ginny hoped he would never find the need.

Frowning at the stack on the nightstand, Ginny pondered how best to clean it up. She didn’t want to mess up his organization. Though, she was curious what each of the parchment scraps marked in his books.

Carefully picking up the top most book, Ginny eyed the gruesome cover of,  _ ‘Forbidden Arts Explained’  _ by A. C. Llewelyn. She grimaced, prying it open to the first spot Tom had marked, reading the headline of the page. It was a detailed description of something called a Lifestream. Ginny skimmed the page curiously, catching words and phrases like,  _ “stealing soul material”  _ and  _ “blood of the ancients.”  _ Not much about it made sense to Ginny, just that the process involved murder and draining the blood of the victim. But, instead of fracturing the soul and storing the fragments in an object, there was a detailed process and ritual to streaming the soul of someone else into another human, which would prolong their life. 

Disturbed, Ginny flipped to another saved spot. This one referenced an item called a Soulstone, which bound the lives of individuals together. Ginny read the explanation twice before finally understanding that those bound by this would die at the same time. There were other ifs, ands, and buts to it. Those bound by a Soulstone were said to evade death more easily. She decided to forgo reading the process of how it was accomplished.

Ginny began to close the book when she noticed writing on the parchment that marked the page about Soulstones. Her eyes drank in the words scrawled hastily in Tom’s cursive -  _ For Ginevra and I? _

An uneasy feeling crept up her body, icy claws of dread grabbed at her nerves. Ginny put the book back onto the precarious stack, wishing she had never seen it. While it was likely that a lot of those things in the book were next to impossible to attain, the concepts made her very uncomfortable. If he had figured out Horcruxes, could Tom create all of these forbidden objects too?

Ginny sighed, knowing she would need to address this with him soon. The time to dig her claws into him was fast approaching. Whether or not he truly trusted her would come to fruition very shortly, Ginny was sure of it.

  
  
  


Ginny really didn’t want to go to the Malfoy family's supper event. 

It was likely to be stuffy and annoying, with more nosy Purebloods butting into things that didn’t concern them. But, Ginny had promised Abraxas she would go, so she dressed in a long and sleeveless forest green dress that Nella picked out for Ginny when the two had gone shopping. Ginny braided her long red hair and considered makeup for the briefest of moments before deciding not to bother.

On her way to the floo downstairs, Ginny stopped to bid farewell to Tom. Kissing him softly, she promised to see him soon and to tell him in detail how dreadful the evening was upon her return. Tom looked a little sullen, but wished his girlfriend a good time before returning to his work in the kitchens.

The Malfoy manor was impressive and intimidating. Ginny was floored by the sheer enormity of the room she arrived in. She tiptoed forward, staring up at the paintings of Malfoy ancestors that adorned the high walls. Ginny felt terribly out of place standing amongst such expensive decor.

"Ginny!" Abraxas called from the doorway. He was grinning, wearing deep blue dress robes that looked very sharp on him. He stepped forward and embraced her, kissing her chastely on the cheek, "Welcome! Thank you for coming."

"This place is big," Ginny remarked, staring around again. A glass sculpture of a swan stood against the wall to her right. She couldn't help but wonder why someone would have one. Likely, it cost more than most of her parents' belongings combined. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Come this way," Abraxas motioned through the doorway he had just come through. "Loads of people are here already. Let me introduce you to my parents." He offered her his elbow.

Ginny took it gently and followed Abraxas into the fanciest kitchen she had ever seen, with a trio of House Elves bustling around carrying platters of food or rummaging in the cabinets. He led her into another room filled with witches and wizards. A long, rectangular table with crimson tablecloth was placed in the center of the spacious room. Along the sides of the wall were small, square tables with little snacks and drinks set up. She hastily accepted a glass of fancy wine from a wandering House Elf before meeting Abraxas' parents.

Mr. Malfoy was a large man with double chins and a receding hairline. He had an angry, pallid face that stared at Ginny with disapproval. Mrs. Malfoy, on the other hand, was the spitting image of her daughter, Maria. Both were tall and scrawny, sandy-haired, blue-eyed, and perpetually timid. Ginny felt uncomfortable as she stood before the two of them. Just being in their presence made her feel unworthy. 

"Mother, Father... This is Ginevra Pyrites," Abraxas gestured to the short redhead beside him. "One of my classmates and a very good friend. Ginny, these are my parents; Brutus and Elnora Malfoy."

"Tis a pleasure to meet you," Elnora smiled demurely, stepping forward to give Ginny a welcoming embrace. The look on her face seemed to be plastered on and completely fake. "We are so sorry for your losses. Welcome to our home and please, make yourself comfortable." 

"Welcome," Brutus echoed, his gravelly voice bored and impatient. "Boy, take your friend around to the others." He turned his back on them and stalked toward a bald man in a set of lime green robes.

"Yes father," Abraxas mumbled after the man’s retreating figure and led Ginny away. The two wandered over to Maria, who was chatting with an older woman who Abraxas introduced to Ginny as their grandmother, Sophronia Malfoy.

Sophronia looked down her long nose as Ginny appraisingly, "Pretty thing, you are. Would make a good Malfoy, Abraxas, have you--"

"No," Abraxas cut off the woman. He grit his teeth, "She is with someone else."

"How unfortunate. She has wonderful birthing hips. Likely would be less of a difficulty than it was for your poor mother," Sophronia eyed Ginny with disappointment etched on her wrinkled face, then shook her head. "A royal shame. Well, I am pleased to meet you, Miss Pyrites. Maria, be a dear and fetch me some champagne?" The unpalatable woman waved her hands in a shooing motion at the willowy girl. Maria balked and hurried off at her grandmother’s behest.

Ginny could feel her blood boiling under her skin. She clenched her mouth shut tight, praying to whatever wizarding gods out there that she didn't hex someone tonight. Plastering a smile as fake as Elnora Malfoy’s on her face, Ginny allowed Abraxas to tote her around to various family members and other Pureblood adults. It was torturous and she sorely regretted promising Abraxas to attend. There was far too much disingenuous behaviour for Ginny’s taste at these types of events. How anyone tolerated the fabricated kindness for this long, she didn’t know. 

By the time they made it out into the expansive courtyard, Ginny was two glasses of wine deep and ready to curse the next person to remark on her lack of an engagement ring on her hand. There had been much disregard for Ginny telling them she was in a committed relationship. According to the older Purebloods, it wasn't a commitment until she was betrothed. Ginny thought that was a load of unicorn crap. 

"Nella, you beautiful witch," Ginny sighed in relief at the sight of her friend approaching her with a new glass of wine for Ginny. "Congratulations, by the way. Tell me what happened!" She quickly abandoned Abraxas with a hasty wave and followed Nella deeper into the courtyard. 

The blonde was giddy, practically bouncing with every step in her pink heels, "Rathmore came to our manor with his family. He told his parents how much he wanted me to be his wife and of course, they made the arrangement with my family. He gave me his mother's ring! Look, isn't it beautiful?" The girl held out her hand for Ginny to see.

Eyeing the gold band, Ginny admired the swath of diamonds that surrounded a much larger one in the center, "That's sweet. I'm so happy for you." And she was, truly. Even if Ginny thought the whole procedure was barbaric, Nella’s happiness made it worthwhile.

"Thank you," Nella sighed in reply, bringing her hands up to her flushed cheeks. "Rathmore is really sweet, Ginny. He brought me flowers and everything. My brother is being a bit of a prat though. Says I stole his best mate."

"Sounds like something a brother would say," Ginny replied, thinking of Ron and his reaction to Ginny and Harry. She resisted the urge to snicker. "Any idea when the wedding will be?"

Nella paused to admire the hedges that had been trimmed into various animals, "I'm thinking next October. I would like a fall wedding. Rathmore says he has no preference on when, so that's up to me."

"Fall would be nice," Ginny echoed, staring around the massive courtyard. Who had hedge animals in their backyard?! It was just insane. "This place is ridiculous. Does your family’s place have this sort of rubbish too?" 

Nella laughed heartily and shook her head at Ginny, "Merlin, no. Our home is pretty ordinary. The Malfoys are extravagant and this place has been passed down for ages. I'm sure Abraxas knows the history of it if you wanted to ask him. A few families have ones like this. Mina’s place is quite large too. Sapphira Ellesworth's, as well. A couple of others, though I’m struggling to think of anyone else right now. Oh! The MacDougal’s have an exquisite home too, it looks like a castle! Walburga is insanely jealous of all of them. Her family home is on the smaller side, comparatively."

"What isn't the hag jealous of?" Ginny made a face at a giraffe-shaped hedge.

Her friend laughed again and the two resumed their walk around the extravagant Malfoy home. Nella glanced over at Ginny before asking hesitantly, "Have you spoken with Tom?"

"We talked," Ginny fiddled with the wand tucked into her pocket. "Things are going well again. We’ll see how long that lasts, since he’s so bloody fickle. He's not thrilled I'm here, of course."

"Jealous of Abraxas?"

Ginny hummed a sound of agreement, "I think so. He won't admit to it, of course. Tom is silly. He knows how I feel about him. Abraxas is just a mate."

Nella clucked her tongue in disdain, "Men. They are often quite silly. I am glad to hear things are going well. Riddle isn't my favourite person, but I do wish well for you both. He is a much brighter individual with you in his life."

"Thank you," she remarked, stopping in her tracks. "Oh, I ought to tell you something before you find out later." Ginny informed her friend about their new rooming arrangements at Leaky and nearly jumped a mile when Nella began to banshee shriek.

"GINNY!" Nella gasped after her outburst. "Oh my goodness! How scandalous!"

Ginny shrugged a single shoulder in dismissal, "It makes things easier and saves us both a few knuts. Plus, I get cuddled every night. Cannot beat that."

Fidgeting, Nella let out a low whistle "It makes sense, but Merlin! I cannot imagine living with Rathmore before our marriage." 

"You know, we actually get on quite well in the same living space," Ginny admired a nearby rosebush. There were so many blooms on it, it almost seemed unreal. Ginny legitimately wondered if it might be fake. "I would hate to find that out post-wedding or something."

Nella's eyes widened as she considered her friend's words, "I suppose that is a valid point. It's just not how we do things, you know?"

The two girls continued chatting until they made their way back to the group. Walburga and Lucretia had arrived, Ginny noticed as she eyed the group that flocked around the two girls. She would stay away, as Ginny didn't want to cause too much of a scene for Abraxas. Instead of joining the group, she parted ways with Nella and went to sit with Maria on a swing bench.

"Hi Ginny," the quiet girl greeted her softly, pushing strands of loose blonde hair out of her face. "H-having fun?"

Ginny made a face, "Are all Pureblood events this stuffy? It's been bloody awful every single time. I’m going to drown myself in wine."

Maria giggled behind a hand shyly, "Yes, very much so. A-at least with this one, it's in my-my own home so I can escape to my bedroom and feign tiredness after supper is finished."

"Oh, how convenient for you!" Ginny teased the older girl. "Have you any plans now that you are finished with schooling?"

The Malfoy girl gnawed on her lower lip before replying, "I'm, uhm, going to F-F-France for a while to study Astronomy. I leave in November for the program." 

"Wow!" Ginny replied enthusiastically. "That's amazing."

"Thank you," the girl flushed pink and looked away. "Uhm. My father is angry with me for leaving. I am p-postponing my wedding for a year for this program." She gripped the bench tight and chewed on her lip once more.

Ginny frowned, "I had no idea you were engaged."

Maria shifted her hands into her lap, picking at her thumbnail, "I am, of course, as is to be expected of me. Thankfully, my, er, intended is v-very understanding about the matter. My father seems to think I am b-bringing dishonor to the Malfoy name by asking him to wait. But... I-I-I love Astronomy. I want a career in it." 

"Then you should follow your goals. Who cares what your father says about it. You are an adult and if your fiance is content waiting, then that's that. I admire your strength, Maria," Ginny replied quietly. "Abraxas has told me some things about your father and I am so sorry. It’s not alright how he treats you. You’re a really great young lady."

Maria gave her a watery smile in reply, "Thank you so much. You are awfully k-kind, Ginny. Listen, I must step away now. I h-have to make more rounds with the guests or my mo-mother will have my hide for not showing proper manners."

"See you later, Maria," Ginny stood up and began to mingle with various classmates or former classmates that were not hovering around Walburga. She chatted about nonsense and listened to Pureblood antics until supper was served. 

The meal was exquisite. Ginny had never seen a set up like it. There were so many things that all smelled so wonderful. Hams, roast chicken, peppered salmon, potatoes, vegetables, crab cakes, and so much more. Everything the girl sampled tasted great and to Ginny's relief, everyone resumed mingling right after eating, with the grown ups inside talking business and politics, while the younger adults or children flitted from outside to indoors. 

Pollux Black noticed Ginny as she, Nella, and Roslyn passed by him to fill their wine glasses. He made a loud, rude comment questioning why certain people were allowed at these parties, which made Brutus Malfoy scowl and shatter a wine glass he clutched too hard in his meaty fist. Ginny was quick to escape into the backyard with her friends before any more of a scene could occur.

Of course, Walburga seemed to want to escalate what her father started, making snide remarks about Ginny's approval of Muggles. Theodisia Williams laughed loudly and questioned aloud if Riddle and her would live like Muggles together. Ginny had been about to hex the pair of them when Roslyn pulled her away with a hiss reminding her to ignore them.

Her glass of wine continued to be filled up, usually by Ornella, and Ginny continued to drink it. By the time the sun had all but diminished and the fairy lights twinkled on in the backyard, she was quite inebriated, as were many of the others.

"I see why everyone drinks at these bloody events," Ginny told Nella, Ros, and John Mulciber as they stood off to the side of a big group. "They're bloody boring and this is the only way to cope with all the arseholes."

"Or perhaps, it's because Mudblood lovers like you are too pathetic to control themselves," Walburga quipped from behind her, sneering at Ginny when the redhead turned around.

Ginny fumbled for the wand in her pocket, nearly dropping it onto the ground instead, "You hag--"

"Whoa, Ginny. Hey, let's take a walk," Abraxas appeared seemingly out of thin air to lead the girl away from doing something problematic. 

"Abraxas, let me go, I want to make her feel the wrath of my bat bogey hex," Ginny whined as the blonde boy tugged her away from the group. They took off down the same path that Ginny and Nella had taken earlier.

Abraxas stumbled a bit, feeling the weight of the wine as well, "It's not worth it. Walburga’s trying to rile you up so she can prove that you’re some sort of scum. It’s not worth it in the slightest."

"So  _ you _ say!" She stamped her foot like a child, glowering up at the tall blonde boy. “All she does is insult me, insult Tom, insult  _ everyone _ .”

“That’s what she does! She antagonizes people! Walburga feeds off of that rubbish.”

“She’s a bitch,” Ginny spat vehemently, fists balled at her sides. “I despise her. I despise everyone here who has been questioning my choices in life. There’s nothing wrong with me dating Tom Riddle! Why is everyone on my back about it? Or trying to get me to ditch him and marry their nephew or cousin or whoever.”

"Well, honestly, no one understands why you're with Riddle," Abraxas told her, fiddling with the pocket of his dress robes. "He's not a good person. I’ve seen him do some really terrible things, Ginny. He has no history to his name. You're so much better than him. You deserve better."

"Abraxas," she said thickly. Her tongue felt like cardboard. "We talked about this."

"I know," he replied somberly. Abraxas took a deep breath, "But, Ginny, he's a bad person."

She put her hands on her hips and stood as tall as she could muster, "Is not."

"You're blind then," Malfoy snapped at her, his pale eyes narrowed as he took in her defensive disposition. 

"Am not!"

"I didn’t want to tell you this... But I... Ginny, ask him about Juliette Worthington. Ask him about Reggie MacMillan. Ask him about Crouch." he retorted. "I could go on, but start there. He hurt all of them. Riddle has no qualms against harming others, I doubt you would be exempt when it comes down to it, no matter how special you might be to him."

Ginny didn't reply, she glowered threateningly at Abraxas. She rummaged for something snarky to say in reply, but she couldn’t come up with anything. Her brain felt mushy and useless with the wine pulsing through her bloodstream. 

"He will never marry you," Abraxas continued on his tirade. He didn't sound angry; more sad than anything else. "I'm not saying this because I want you to wed me instead. I am saying this because I don't want to see you hurt and cast aside like a broken toy. Riddle will abandon you if things go how he wants them to. He wants to become Lord of the dark wizards. There's no room for you there. He'll use you and cast you aside. Not that he has anything to offer you even if he were to marry you. Ginny, I'm afraid you're wasting your time."

"I love him," she spat vehemently, swaying slightly on her unsteady feet. "I love Tom Riddle, Abraxas. I have to try."

"You're going to break into a million little shards because of Riddle," Abraxas told her sadly. "I don't want to watch you fall apart, Ginny."

"Then don't watch."

"Ginny--"

"I'm going home," Ginny announced suddenly, she started to turn her back on him and walk away. She didn’t want to hear anymore about how people disliked her relationship. 

Abraxas took a deep breath, "Do you know what he's doing while you're gone tonight?"

"What?" She whirled back around. Ginny stared wide-eyed in fury at the tall boy, pleading with her brown eyes for him to say he was lying. Tom wasn’t doing anything while she was out tonight. He was waiting for her, reading his stupid books.

"He's with Lestrange. They're... hurting someone, Ginny. For information on some rubbish that no one's seen in centuries. No idea why either, he won’t tell any of us what he needs this for. He could be killing someone right now," Abraxas looked at her with desperation, pleading with her in return to believe him.

Her skin pricked in fear, intoxication, and panic, "He said he wouldn't hurt anyone anymore."

"He lied to you," Abraxas told her harshly, a pained expression on his face. "Riddle will never love you. He’s a liar and he’s using you."

She swallowed, “No, he’s not.” Her voice wavered and cracked. Ginny didn’t want to believe that Tom would do this. She didn’t want to believe he was turning into Voldemort despite her efforts.

“He is!” Abraxas bellowed, his voice echoing in the courtyard. The breeze rustled the hedges around. “Riddle is a bloody lunatic and you mean nothing to someone like him. Did you know he wants people to worship him? He has been working on gaining followers since our second year. He referred to himself as a Dark Lord once, as if he’s some sort of bloody royalty. If I didn’t know what he was capable of, I would tell the bloody menace to bugger off!”

"Fuck off," Ginny swore, backing away from him with her hands held out. "Fuck the fuck right off, Abraxas." 

"I'm not trying to hurt you, Ginny! Not like Riddle is," he begged her. "I'm begging you to see the truth before it's too late. Please, please,  _ please _ . You have to understand that he doesn’t care about anyone or anything. He’s heartless. You would be better off with anyone, even with Mulciber for Merlin’s sake."

She turned on her heel, storming past everyone and ignoring anyone who called out to her. She took the floo back to Leaky, her head spinning as Ginny spilled out onto the floor. Pol was there, looking concerned over her sudden arrival. Ginny remained on her knees for a moment, trying to calm the chaos raging in her head and stomach. She took Pol’s hand and allowed him to carefully pull Ginny to her feet. With a hasty farewell and completely ignoring Pol’s questions of concern, she tore off to the third floor.  _ ‘Please let Tom be here,’ _ Ginny thought to herself.

She burst into the room they shared, stumbling over her own two feet. Ginny called out his name desperately, but the room was silent in reply. Warnings from Abraxas echoed in her head and Ginny felt sick. Clutching her stomach, she glanced at the books still stacked on Tom's nightstand. In a fury, Ginny grabbed the topmost book, the one she had reviewed that morning, and dumped it straight into the trash bin. 

Ginny didn’t realize she was crying until she had tossed the third book. She felt ashamed. Had Albus Dumbledore been right? Was this all a sham and Tom played her for a fool? Again? Her stomach flopped as Ginny angrily wiped at her face with the back of her hand. She screamed in frustration as she stared out the window at the darkness, wondering what the hell she would do with everything. 

Had Tom lied when he said that he hadn't hurt anyone in a few months? Or was that merely a short-lived thing? She bit her lip, conflicting feelings overwhelming her. Ginny had been manipulated, once again, by Tom Riddle hadn't she? Swallowing hard, Ginny tried her damndest not to sob like a baby. She stood at the window crying for what seemed like ages, watching the empty streets below and hoping to pull an answer out of thin air.


End file.
